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1 
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THE 


Canadian  Magazine 


OF   POLITICS,   SCIENCE, 
ART    AND     LITERATURE 


Q 


VOL.   XXIV 

NOVEMBER,   1904-APRIL,   1905,   INCLUSIVE 


TORONTO 
THE    ONTARIO    PUBLISHING    CO.,    Limited 

190.5 


CONTENTS  OF  VOLUME  XXIV 

NOVEMBER,   1904— APRIL,   1905 


FRONTISPIECES  ia'-i: 

A  Gaucho  Cowuuv. Drawn  by  William  Bcally  _' 

Columbus  at  The  Spanish  Coikt Painting  by  Von  Brozik  DS 

Earl  Grey From  a  Photograph.  202 

An  Eskimo  Family From  a  Photograph.  298 

The  Shaxgani  Patrol Drawn  by  Allan  Stewart  394 

The  Creation  oi'  Ma.n- Palming  by  Michelangelo.  I'M) 

ARTICLES 

Agricultural  Progress  in  Quebec Illustrated (i.  Boron.  429 

Alexandra,  Queen Illustrated /'•./•  Thompson.  240 

Argentine  Gaucho,  The Illustrated /•//•/  D.  Leckic  .'! 

Australia "^  i 

Automobile — See  "Motor  Car." 

Blair,  Andrew  G.  .  . With  Portrait /  .  ',.  Maujuis.  J  U 

Canada  at  St.  Louis Illustrated VV/c  Editor.  33 

Canada,  Sport  and  Travel  in  Northern.  .  Illustrated Rnnewer.  299 

Canada  to  Tongaland Illustrated 1 .  llninlorc  \\'atcrs.\  1,  99 

Canadian  Celebrities; 

.56. — Robert  Meighen 1.  C.  Allum.  48 

57. — Andrew  G.  Blair T.  G.  Marquis.  144 

58.— Hon.  Charles  S.  Hyman //.  McBcan  John.ston.  216 

59. — Harvey  P.  DwighT James  Hedley.  312 

60.— Prof.  James  W.  Robertson Frederick  Hamilton.  430 

Canadian  Poetry — See  "Roberts." 

Canadian  vs.  United  States  Engineers James  Johnston.  558 

Canada's  Glorious  Weather Esther  Talbot  Kingsmill.  473 

Caribou Illustrated 389 

Chapel,  The  Sistine Illustrated Katherine  Hah  .  101 

City  Life — See  "Things  that  are  at  night." 

Cornwall  Canal  Contract Illustrated \orman  Patterson.  395 

Curacao,  A  Month  in Illustrated G.  M.  L.  Brown  203 

Dog  Eat  Dog Cy  IVarman.  242 

Donegal,  The  Marchioness  of Illustrated M.  E.  Henderson.  308 

DwiGHT,  Harvey  P ^^'ith  Portrait James  Hedley.  312 

Electric  Locomotives Illustrated 581 

Empire,  Future  Calls  Upon  The Douglas  Kerr.  40q_ 

Engineers,  Canadian  vs.  United  States James  Johnston.  558 

Fight  for  North  America ....  Illustrated A.  G.  Bradley    55,  169,  255 

Franchises,  Taxation  of Man  C.  Thompson.  463 

Gaucho,  The  Argentine Illustrated John  D.  Leckie.  3 

Genoa,  A  Visit  To Illustrated Erie  Waters.  329 


CONTENTS 


in 


\\  ith  Portrait 


Girl' .-5  L(jLLi:'a:s 

Great  BRrxAiN,  Is  She  Preparing  for  War?     

Great  Britain — See  "Novice  in  Parliament,"  and  "Future 

Grenadier  Guards  and  Their  Band Illustrated 

Grey,  Earl,  Governor-General  .  . 

Half-Breed's  Story,  The 

HvMAN,  Hon.  Charles  S 

Independence  in  Politics 

Italy — See  "Genoa." 

Japan-Russia  Wak  I'u  n  i-^ 
Japan — See  "Current 

Meighen,  Robert 

Michelangeix> — See  "Sistine  Chapi;; 
Motor  Car  of  1905 

Night  in  The  City 

North  America,  Fight  For  ... 
Novice  in  Parliament,  The 


Parliament,  British     5ke  "Novice." 

Petit  Trianon.  .  

Photograph,  Lakwi....   ...    !•"    \V'"i"  m 

Poetry — See  "Roberts." 
Propulsion,  The  New  Mi-nioi, 

Queen  Alexandra  

Roberts  and  Thb  Influbncbs  oi»  His  '1 1 
Robertson,  Prof.  James  W.  . . 
R0BIN.S0N,  Sir  John  Beverley 

Russo-Japanese  War  Pictures 

Russi.x — See  "CrKvivT  )-\  ivt'^  Am.: 


.  llluslrated.  . 

|llit<tr..l...| 

.  i  mist  r;iuti 
.IIliisti;itc<l 

With  Purlraii 
Ilhisfnitcd 


lilu-ii. 


Sistine  Chapel.  . 

Sitting  Bull,  SukkKNUKk  of Illustrated . 

Sitting  Bull,  The  H.vlf-Brekds  Stokv  .  IHustratcfl 
Smith,  Professor  Goldwin Ilhisin- 

<!.,  ,i..T    WD  Tr  A  VET    ■■^-   TM--    V.o-'v 

'I-   CaNAD.\  .  .  Ulustl.i'.    ; 

v^iT.    i.oflS,    CaNAI>\     \  i'Iiivtr.i!(  .i 

Tawdry  Apparei 

Taxation  of  Franchises 
The  Things  That  Ari:  .\  1 

Tipping,  A  Defence 

Tongaland,  Canada  '1   ■ 
Triano.v,  The  Petit 
Turbines... 

University  ui-    ioko.Mw. 

Yukon,  How  To  Save 

Ace  of  Hearts,  The  . 
An  Unrequited  Vi<;ii 
'Arry's  Cannibal.  . 


lllUbLralcd 
Illustrate<l 
Illustrated 


FICTION 


PAGE 

.'../.  y.   377 

Tfie  Editor.     315 

Calls  Upon  The  Empire." 

/.  Henry.       43 

S7, 284 

.    .Ihikc  oj  .\rgyll.     219 
.  //.  M.  Johnston.     210 

.:n| 


):'.").  .V_' I 


Is 

;  \V.  Fulhrton.       I'.t 
nradUy    55, 169,  255 


..III 
Is". 

I  imi  *    I  <>ini  >7i)»/        _'  1 1 ) 

.  i 

lUiinULiH.     A'.Wi 

Editor.     2:J2 


.'.  .       .  Ill  I 

<;.  Wade,  K.c.    ;«> 

!hik.- o:  .\rti,\U.     219 


Reviewei 
I'he  Editot 

I  nnie  Merrill.  1 7n 

.Alan  C.  Thompson.  I'i '. 

1  ultrey  W.  FuUerton.  1 ' ' 

.  .Albert  R.  Cartnan.  I  li« 
I .  riuodore  Waters.   1 1 ,  \)\) 

.AUwrt  R.  Cartnan.  501 

lames  Johnson.  210 

5ti9 

...CM.  Wood-worth.  317 


ir.  A.  Eraser.     147^ 

.William  Holloway.     26S 
.  .  .  .  M  .  \'ictor  Cook        ;   > 


i^,  CONTENTS 

f'Af.E 

\  irna  Sheard.  :168 

BELATED   VaLENTIxNE,    A ^    ^    j^^^^^^  ,-2 

CHRISTMAS  PRESENT    A Isabel  E.  Mackax.  .551 

DESPAIR  OF  Sandy  Mcintosh -  Albert  Hukman.67.  \20 

Goosander,  The ^^    ^   Ruthcrjord.  -'' 

His  Brother's  1>vEEper ^^^^     ^^.^^^ 

Johnnie  Purple's  Christmas  Dream •  •    "  " "-    '     ' 

Love  or  Duty ^ ;  • ;    ,,    ^       .  ,  .w,.. 

Number  851 ,,.   i-    ,     /•    l  mi 

_                ^                                                                                                           ..l^.  V  ictor  Cook  1 1  I 

Passage  Paid ,,.    ,-  i  ,- 

Prisoner  of  Baalbeck,  The J'^^f  "  •  '"fj;;";  ^;; 

Pride  of  The  Race Illustrated Theodore  KoherU.  .M6 

STREET  Scene  in  Russia •*•  <^*'-**^-  '^ 

Taunla,  TheDaco.t "'•'*•  1:^?;.  fS^ 

The  Builders Illustrated Eric  Hohn. .  .244.  345.  441,  ^7 

The  Junior  Partner Illustrated //.  McHean  Johnston.  404 

Trailing  Clouds  of  Glory ^/^O'  ^'/ru'ur/  Dune.  453 

White  Father  of  Unoava,  The •  ■   Clement  M.  Keys  \m 

Whom  He  Loveth Bessie  Ktrkpalrick  '  .7 

Wings  of  Night,  The '    "     ^-'^^  -' ' 

DKPARTMFVTS 

About  New  Books   HK,  1S9.  287.  :iS4,  478.  573 

Canada  For  The  Canadians .95,  199,  295,  ;J91,  487,  ."iSS 

Current  Events  Abroad HI,  177,  276.  373.  466,  rjei 

Idle  Moments 03.  195.  291.  ;W7.  4H3.  579 

Oddities  and  Curiosities ■  .  .  197.  293.  ;i89.  485.  58| 

People  and  Affairs S4.  186.  284.  :J81.  47 

Woman's  Sphere.  .' 77.  181.  28().  377.  47' ' 

POKTRV 

A  Reckoning Theodore  Kohnts .  424 

An  Empty  Cot Winifred  Armstrong.  231 

A  Song  of  Cheek William  J .  I'i.schcr  1 1'.t 

A  Summer  Night „orge  Herbert  Clark*.  1 1 • 

Dream  of  Spring . .  Florence  Maclun  ■_''  i 

Introspection,  An L.  H.  Schram 

L' Amour /ng/iJ  Mors, 

Lines  Written  by  a  Certain  King  in  Exile \I.  H.  Davidson.  lUt 

Love's  Roundelay /wg/tx  Morse.  IH<» 

Mebbe WiUiam  Henry  Prummowl 

Manna r  £   Macnaghteu 

Poetry yy   wufrid  Campbell 

^^^^ II  inifred  A  rm.Uroni:  ■  \  - 

Sophistry Winifred  Armstrong.  U  1 

Sunlight Vernon  Xott.  .i:j5 

The  Dreamer p^^^y  McManus.  2-54 

The  Messiah /^^_4    Thompson.  499 

The  Friend f,,,^^  ^  MacdonneU.  128 

T"E  Guest y-^^  ^^^^  ^^ 

The  Petition y-^^  ^hearJ.  5.72 

The  Way  to  Peace ,„^,;,  ^;^,,,,  ,  ,5 


A     GAUCHO     COWBOY 

WITH      CHIRIPA     (  UNDER-GARM  ENT  I     AND      CHILD 

DRAWN     BY     WILLIAM     BEATTY.     AFTER     PHOTOGRAPH 


THE 


CANADIAN  Magazine 


VOL.   XXIV  TORONTO,    NOVEMBER,    1904 


No.   1 


THE  ARGENTINE  GAUCHO 


By  JOH.S  D.  LECKIl 


line  Gaucho  of  the  Argen- 
tine  plains  may  be  of  any 
race  or  colour  from  pure 
Indian  to  pure  white,  but 
he  generally  possesses  a 
strain  of  both  white  and  Itidian  blood. 
in  his  character  he  partakes  more  of 
his  Indian  than  of  his  white  ancestry, 
perhaps  because,  in  the  majority  of 
cases,  the  Indian  is  his  maternal  side, 
and  those  aboriginal  traits  which  are 
not  inherited  are  instilled  into  him  from 
the  earliest  age  by  maternal  tuition. 

It  is  said  that  if  you  scratch  the  Rus- 
sian you  will  find  the  Tartar,  and  it  is 
equally  true  that  if  you  scratch  the 
Ciaucho  you  will  find  the  aboriginal 
Indian.  It  is  said  that  mongrel  races 
f^'enerally  inherit  the  vices  of  both 
parents  without  the  virtues  of  either. 
In  the  West  Indies,  for  example,  one 
finds  the  proverb,  "God  made  the 
white  man,  and  God 
made  the  black 
man,  but  the  devil 
made  the  mulatto," 
nor  can  it  be  denied 
by  those  enabled  to 
speak  with  author- 
ity that  there  is  a 
substratum  of  truth 
in  the  saying. 

Perhaps  the  near- 
est approach  to  the 
Ciaucho  type  and 
cha  rac t  er  to  be 
found  in  Europe  is 
that  of  the  wander- 
ing Gypsies,  with 
whom  most  of  us  are 


acquainted.  Travellers  who  have  visit- 
ed both  Northern  Africa  or  Arabia  and 
.Argentina  assure  us  that  there  is  a  strik- 
ing resemblance  between  the  Arab  and 
the  Gaucho  character,  caused  doubt- 
less by  similar  surroundings  and  meth- 
ods of  life. 

Before  delineating  the  unfavourable 
points  of  the  Gaucho  character,  we  will 
injustice  have  a  word  to  say  about  his 
good  points,  of  which  he  certainly  has 
a  few.  Like  the  Arab  of  the  desert, 
the  Gaucho  is  characterised  by  his  in- 
nate courtesy,  hospitality  and  fidelity  to 
his  master  or  leader.  This  is  a  trait 
which  seems  characteristic  of  all  peo- 
ples who  live  in  a  semi-feudal  state, 
and  was  very  noticeable  as  late  as  last 
century  amonr  our  own  Higlilanders, 
though  in  this  age  of  manhood  suf- 
frage, trades  unions  and  strikes,  the 
bonds   of   sympathy  which    formerly 


oENTINB  «STANCHIA  (RAMCH) 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


/yr/in-  iti""-  ■■'  ^''  A 


shepherd's  hut  and  travelling  car 
In  the  latter  he  lives  for  months  at  a  time  while  herdingf  sheep. 


attached  master  and  servant  have  been, 
in  a  great  measure,  loosened. 

Courtesy  is  a  universal  trait  of  the 
Gaucho.  He  may  be,  and  generally  is, 
unlettered  and  uneducated,  but  he 
never  forgets  that  he  is  one  of  Nature's 
gentlemen,  and,  unless  under  strong 
provocation,  is  careful  not  to  offend, 
in  any  way,  the  feelings  of  those  with 
whom  he  comes  in  contact.  But  if 
courteous  himself,  he  expects  equal 
courtesy  on  the  part  of  others,  even 
those  placed  in  authority  over  him,  and 
would  leave  in  a  moment  the  employ 
of  any  master  who  dared  to  address 
him  a  harsh  word  for  any  fault  he 
might  have  committed.  If  his  dignity 
is  respected  he  will,  however,  general- 
ly be  found  a  faithful  and  trustworthy 
servant. 

In  matters  of  religion  his  beliefs  are 
simple,  and  no  intricate  theological 
dogmas  trouble  him.  He  shows  every 
reverence  for  the  priest,  because  this 
has  been  impressed  on  him  as  a  duty 
from  his  tenderest  years.  The  women, 
however,  are  much  more  fervent  in 
their  piety  than  the  men,  for  while  the 
former  are  frequent  church-goers,  the 
men  rarely  enter  a  church  door.  They 
look  on  it,  however,  as  their  duty  to 
confess  their  sins  once  in  a  while,  and 


they  can  generally  manage  to  mutter 
in  an  unintelligible  manner  a  Credo  or 
Ave  Maria — there  their  religion  be- 
gins and  there  it  ends.  They  usually 
know  the  most  important  saints*  days 
in  the  calendar  such  as  the  church 
festivals,  for  the  simple  reason  that 
those  days  are  holidays  on  which  no 
work  must  be  done,  and  this  latter 
duty  is  religiously  complied  with  by 
the  Gaucho.  The  Gaucho  looks  on 
the  foreigner  with  a  curious  mixture 
of  respect  and  contempt  —  respect, 
because  the  foreigner  is  always  much 
more  skilled  in  the  arts  and  sciences 
than  he  is,  and  generally  also  more 
practised  in  the  use  of  firearms;  and 
contempt,  because  foreigners  are,  in 
comparison  to  themselves,  such  poor 
horsemen.  The  Gaucho  almost  lives  in 
the  saddle;  his  horse  is  his  most  treas- 
ured possession,  and  even  the  poorest 
of  them  has  one,  and  often  two  or 
three.  There  is  no  moral  or  physical 
excellence  in  their  eyes  equal  to  that  of 
being  a  first-rate  horseman,  and  no 
man  could  aspire  to  be  a  leader  of  the 
Gauchos  who  was  not  an  unexceptional- 
ly  skilled  equestrian.  During  the  wars 
which  afflicted  the  country  during  the 
last  century,  foreigners  had  frequently 
to  intervene  in  order  to  defend  their 


THE  ARGENTINE  GAUCHO 


A   TYPICAL   AKCBNTIMB  GAICHO 

With  Poncho,  which  ii  Overcoat  by  day  and  Blanket  by  night 
ntAtm  MT  wiixiAM  BSAmr.  Amn  rwofcwtrn 


own  interests,  and  on  one  occasion  a 
Ciucho  orator  declared  in  a  warlike 
^p  vch  that  those  '*  g^ring^oes"  (term 
ot  contempt  for  a  European)  were  men 
oi  no  account,  who  were  not  even  equal 
to  A  single  night's  gallop — a  statement 


which  his  large  plebeian  audience  ap- 
plauded to  the  echo.  He  believes  that 
the  foreigner  is  not  a  Christian  ;  he 
has  never  been  baptised  ;  he  is  a  mere 
heretic  with  no  hope  of  salvation,  who 
cannot  even  name  the  various  saints' 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


CUTTING   UP   AN   OX   FOR   FOOD — EUROPEAN   OVERSEER    AND 
GAUCHO  COWBOYS 


days  or  recite  an  Ave  Maria  or  Pater- 
noster— a  belief  which  bears  evidence 
of  the  teachings  of  the  priests  among 
an  ignorant  population. 

Although    the    Gaucho    is    usually 
honest  where  his  master's  property  is 


concerned, he  has 
a  failing  for  petty 
thieving,  and  it 
is  difficult  to 
get  him  to  un- 
derstand  the 
principle  of  wfMW 
and  teum  in  such 
matters.  They 
will  seldom  steal 
articles  of  great 
value  except  un- 
der strong  temp- 
tation, but  they 
have  a  weakness 
for  *'  comman- 
deering "  any 
stray  horses  they 
lake  a  fancy  to. 
The  prevalence 
of  horse-thieving 
may  be  account- 
ed for  by  the 
ease  with  which  such  a  theft  is  accom- 
plished, and  the  strong  temptation  to 
a  roving  Gaucho,  who  has  lost  his 
steed,  to  appropriate  one  of  the  many 
thousands  he  finds  grazing  in  the 
boundless  prairies.      Horses,   it  must 


GAUCHO   GIRLS   POUNDING   CORN 

Corn    meal  is  prepared   by   pounding  the  corn    with    wooden    pestles    in  a    large 

wooden  mortar  and  then  passing  the  product  through  a  sieve 


THE  ARGENTINE  GAUCHO 


be  remembered,  have  very  little 
value  in  the  River  Plate.  W 
have  mentioned  a  Gaucho  - 
skill  in  horsemanship.  T^ 
ride  an  unbroken  and  half-wild 
horse  is  looked  upon  as  a  very 
ordinary  feat.  He  will  not 
only  jump  off  a  horse  at  full 
gallop,  but  will  consider  him- 
self unskilful  if  he  does  not 
alight  on  his  feet  without  fall- 
ing— a  feat  which  may  seem 
impossible  to  an  English  horse- 
man. 1  certainly  have  never 
heard  of  a  Gaucho  having  been 
killed  by  a  fall  from  his  horse, 
an  accident  not  unfrequent 
among  foreigners. 

For  their  chiefs  and  leaders 
they  have  always  showed  the  great- 
est respect  and  attachment,  even 
though  the  former  exercised  their  sway 
in  the  most  despotic  manner.  Men 
like  Rosas  or  Quiroga 
easily  acquired  bound- 
less  influence  over 
them,  because  they 
understood  the 
Gaucho  character  and 
possessed  those  quali- 
ties which  their  fol- 
lowers admired.  Al- 
though the  Gauchoes 
are  possessed  of  a 
considerable  amount 
of  native  cunnin:;. 
'^      roga    was    mort- 

Ml  a  match  for  them, 
md  was  credited  by 
them  with  the  posses- 
sion of  a  wisdom  equal 
to  that  of  Solomon,  a 
reputation  not  unde- 
served, as  the  follow- 
ing anecdote  (which  is 
only  a  sample  of 
many  such)  will  show. 
Quiroga  was  on  one 
occasion  much  offend- 
ed because  one  of  his 
immediate  followers 
had  stolen  some  article 
o(  his  property  and  he 
was  unable  to  detect 
the  thief.       He   sum- 


's A  RANCH 


moned  all  thos«  he  suspected  and 
distributed  among  them  rods  of  equal 
length,  telling  them  to  deliver  the  rods 
at  a  certain  spot,  and  that  the  rod  of 


ACKVAKD 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


ARGENTINE — GAUCHO   WOMAN    AND   PLOUGH 


the  culprit  would  be  found  to  have 
grown  in  the  meantime.  The  rods 
were  duly  delivered,  when  it  was 
found  that  one  of  them  was  shorter 
than  the  rest.  Quiroga  immediately 
called  up  the  owner  of  the  short  rod 
and  denounced  him  as  the  thief.  The 
man,  in  his  terror,  admitted  his  guilt, 
acknowledging  that  in  the  dread  of 
being  discovered  he  had  cut  a  piece 
off  the  end  of  his  rod. 

The  Gaucho  sets  a  very  low  value 
on  human  life,  and  homicides  are  of 
frequent  occurrence.  Most  of  these 
arise  out  of  personal  quarrels,  and  in 
the  local  press  they  are  generally  al- 
luded to  as  a  "  desgracia "  (a  word 
which  in  Spanish  does  not  mean  "dis- 
grace," as  it  should  in  such  a  case, 
but  simply  "  misfortune  ").  Such 
offences  rarely  receive  adequate  punish- 
ment, eight  years'  imprisonment  being 
about  the  maximum  penalty,  but  in 
many  cases  the  imprisonment  only  ex- 
tends to  a  few  months.  In  very  many 
cases,  perhaps  the  majority,  the  crim- 


inal escapes  punishment  altogether.  It 
is  not  unusual  to  find  persons  still  at 
large  who  are  known  to  have  commit- 
ted half  a  dozen  homicides.  Though 
he  has  little  idea  of  the  sacredness  of 
human  life,  this  evil  record  is  the  out- 
come not  so  much  of  a  bloodthirsty 
disposition,  as  of  the  lax  administra- 
tion of  justice  already  alluded  to, 
which  allows  crimes  of  violence  to  es- 
cape almost  unpunished.  It  used  for- 
merly to  be  the  custom  to  punish 
homicides  by  enrolling  them  in  the 
army  for  a  few  months,  and  sending 
them  for  service  on  the  Indian  fron- 
tier. One  may  form  some  idea  of  the 
nature  of  troops  recruited  in  this  man- 
ner. 

These  remarks  apply  more  especially 
to  the  Gaucho  of  the  Pampas  of  Cen- 
tral Argentina,  and  the  whole  region 
extending  from  Bahia  Blanca  to  the 
frontier  of  Paraguay.  In  some  of  the 
north-eastern  provinces  they  are  said 
to  be  of  a  milder  disposition.  The 
Correntinos  (natives  of  the  province  of 


THE  ARGENTINE  GAUCHO 


Corrientes)  enjoy  an 
unenviable  reputa- 
tion forbloodthirsti 
ness,  nor  is  this  rep- 
utation by  any 
means  undeserved, 
as  I  can  attest  by 
personal  experi 
ence.  It  has  been 
my  lot  to  live  for 
some  months 
among  the  Corren- 
tinos,  and  people  of 
a  lower  grade  of 
moral  character  I 
have  never  met  any- 
where, although  I 
have  travelled  con- 
siderably—  nor  are 
their  numerous  de- 
fects relieved  by  a 
single  good  point  1 
can  think  of.  The 
Argentine  army  is 
largely  composed  of 
Correntinos,  and 
they  make  good 
soldiers. 

The  Ciaucho  is 
somewhat  of  a 
musician,  and  even 
of  a  poet,  for  not 
only  will  he  thrum 
a  lively  air  on  the 
guitar,  but  he  will 
accompany  it  by  an 
extempore  ditty  of 
his  own  accomposi- 
tion — needless  to  say  his  poetry  is  not 
of  as  high  a  standard  as  that  of  Byron. 
For  example,  if  the  pedestrian  chances 
to  come  on  a  group  of  idlers  who  are 
passing  the  time  by  listening  to  one 
of  these  rustic  bards,  he  may  not  un- 
probably  be  greeted  by  a  number  of 
complimentary  remarks  regarding  the 
honour  he  does  by  joining  their  com- 
pany, etc.,  etc.,  delivered  in  a  rhyming 
jingle,  to  the  music  of  the  guitar  afore- 
said, all  of  which  the  stranger  may 
very  correctly  interpret  as  a  gentle 
hint  to  stand  drinks  all  round,  nor  will 
he  find  his  invitation  refused  by  any 
of  the  bystanders. 

The  attire  is  not  unpicturesque.   His 


OLD   r.AUCllO   WOMAN    WEAVINC.    A    HAMMOCK   ON    HOMI-MADB   UX>M 


nether  garment,  known  as  a  "  bom- 
bacha,"  is  wide  and  baggy,  like  that 
worn  by  a  French  Zouave,  or  the  di- 
vided skirt  sometimes  worn  by  lady 
cyclists.  But  his  most  essential  gar- 
ment is  the  "  poncho,"  which  is  gen- 
erally of  wool  if  the  wearer  can  afford 
it,  though  the  poorer  classes  have  to 
content  themselves  with  cotton.  The 
poncho  resembles  a  blanket  with  a 
hole  in  the  middle,  through  which  the 
wearer  thrusts  his  head,  and  is  used 
as  an  overcoat  by  day  and  a  blanket 
by  night.  It  is  a  most  convenient 
garment  for  a  traveller,  and  can  be 
adjusted  to  suit  any  change  of  weather. 
Thus,  in    cold    or    wet  weather,  it  is 


lO 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


worn  so  as  to  envelop  the  entire  body; 
if  the  temperature  becomes  somewhat 
milder,  it  is  thrown  over  the  shoulder 
and  round  the  neck,  somewhat  after  the 
manner  of  a  Scotch  plaid  ;  and  if  the 
thermometer  mounts  still  higher,  it  is 
the  work  of  a  moment  to  throw  it  off 
altogether.  The  poncho,  indeed,  is  an 
economiser  of  time,  money  and  labour. 
The  Gaucho,  like  most  children  of 
nature,  is  very  superstitious  and  full  of 
strange  beliefs.  He  is  a  decided  be- 
liever in  ghosts,  magic,  witchcraft, 
divining,  and,  in  fact,  in  everything 
supernatural ;  nor  is  it  easy  to  disabuse 
him  of  such  ideas  or  reason  him  out  of 
them.  Some  of  their  customs  are 
rather  peculiar,  such  as  that  of  hold- 
ing a  wake  or  "  velorio "  over  the 
body  of  an  infant  child.  This  custom 
is  confined  to  the  lower  classes,  and 
when  one  of  them  loses  a  child,  it  is 
the  instant  signal  not  for  a  manifesta- 


tion of  grief,  but  for  a  joyful  meeting- 
of  all  the  neighbours  for  miles  around, 
who  make  the  night  lively  with  danc- 
ing, music  and  other  diversions,  which 
will  be  kept  up  until  an  early  hour  in 
the  morning. 

The  time  is  long  past  when  the 
Gaucho  was  a  power  in  the  land;  Gau- 
cho presidents  are  no  longer  seen,  and 
even  Gaucho  generals  are  scarce.  The 
rapid  increase  of  population  in  the 
River  Plate  republics,  caused  by  immi- 
gration, has  tended  to  drive  the  Gau- 
cho element  into  the  background;  for 
not  only  are  they  relatively  inferior  in 
numbers,  but  these  sons  of  the  plains, 
not  being  residents  of  the  towns,  retire 
before  the  march  of  settlement  like  the 
buffalo  and  the  wild   Indian. 

The  time  is  probably  not  far  distant 
when  the  Gaucho  will  be  as  extinct  as 
the  dodo,  nor  will  civilisation  be  a 
loser  by  the  change. 


A   SUMMER    NIGHT,    LAKE    OF    BAYS, 
MUSKOKA 

BY  GEORGE  HERBERT  CLARKE 

CILENT  the  vast  of  night: 

^     Silent  the  hills  on  horizons, 

Low,  dark,  continuing; 

Not  a  leaf  is  bestirred  on  the  branches 

By  the  wind,  now  hushed  into  nothing. 

Or  the  careless,  confident  touch  of  a  bird  alighting; 

Silent  the  rocks,  sullen  resisters ; 

Silent  the  waters. 

Even  the  very  young  waves,  the  gentle  rippling  washes  of 

the  slim  sand's  little  lovers ; 
Very  silent  the  moon,  that  rises  and  rises,  dear  sorceress — 
Never  a  whisper,  a  hint,  yet  the  luminous,  tremulous  path 

is  forever 
Turning  and  twinkling  to  me,  appearing,  evanishing, 

Infinite  points  of  light  liquescent,  sparkling  and  darkling; 
And  I  look  at  the  hills  and  the  trees  and  the  rocks  and  the 

waters, 
And  I  look  at  the  moon  and  the  glorified  path  to  her  glory, 
And  share  my  brothers'  silence. 


FROM  CANADA 

TO  TONGALAND 

THK    EXPFRIENCES    OF    A    MISSIONARY 
By  A.    THEODORE  WATERS 


I  ROM  a  village  boy  in  Cana- 
da to  a  Protestant  mission- 
ary of  the  Gospel  in  Africa, 
had  not  quite  entered  into 
my  youthful  calculations, 
but  so  it  fell  out.  Who  can  tell  the 
course  of  a  fox  an  hour  hence  because 
he  is  now  running  east? 

About  the  time  of  my  conversion  in 
Chicago  (Moody's  Church),  there  was 
also  another  young  man  converted 
there,  a  Mr.  Fred  Hodden  of  Colum- 
bus, Ohio.  We  were  both  constrained 
in  spirit  to  go  as  missionaries  to  Afri- 
ca, and  were  also  of  one  mind  to  go 
independently  and  at  our  own  expense. 
After  seven  years  spent  in  commerce 
and  study  (including  a  brief  term  of 
medicine),  I  was  ready  in  1897.  I 
joined  my  yokefellow  in  BuflFalo,  where 
we  were  set  apart  to  the  work  of  the 
Gospel  by  the  Jefferson  Street  Church 
of  Christ. 

During  my  service  as  head  book- 
keeper for  a 
large  manu- 
facturing firm 
in  Toronto,  I 
had  saved 
money  toward 
my  journey 
abroad.  We 
made  our 
purses  into 
one  common 
fund.  But 
there  was  not 
enough  in  it 
to  pay  our 
way  through- 
out to  our 
destination. 


Johannesburg,  South  Africa.  So  we 
determined  to  work  our  way.  After 
repeated  trips  to  the  East  BuflFalo 
horse  sales  stables,  we  succeeded  in 
working  our  way  to  New  York,  over 
the  New  York  Central  Ry.,  in  charge 
of  horses.  We  rode  in  the  caboose, 
but  our  duty  was  to  get  out  at  the  stop- 
ping places  and  see  that  the  horses 
kept  to  their  feet.  As  I  rode  into 
New  York  city  on  the  top  of  a  freight 
car  with  my  guitar  (the  caboose  had 
been  detached),  in  a  drizzling  rain,  I 
looked  like  a  **  broken  "  actor.  Had 
we  failed  to  get  a  ride  from  Buffalo, 
we  could  have  walked,  but  now  the 
ocean  lay  before  us. 

We  canvassed  all  the  freight  lines 
(there  were  then  no  passenger  boats) 
running  direct  to  South  Africa,  but 
without  success.  We  then  decided  to 
venture  around  by  England,  so  set  to 
work  trying  to  "get  a  job"  to  an  Eng- 
lish port.     This  route  also  proved  hard 


IN    DELAGOA    BAY 


12 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


TONGALAND— MAPLTA  COURT  HOUSE  AND  POLICE  FORCE 


to  book  on,  but  through  the  influence 
of  a  letter  of  introduction  from  the 
manager  of  the  East  Buffalo  stables, 
we  succeeded  finally  in  shipping  on  a 
great  steam  freighter,  as  horsemen. 
We  were  called  "stiffs,"  a  sea  term 
synonymous  with  the  land  term  "dead- 
head." 

Horses,  cattle  and  sheep,  with  grain 
and  general  merchandise  made  up  our 
cargo  of  eight  thousand  tons.  A  com- 
pany of  fifty  "stiffs"  composed  the 
"help"  crew,  subjects  of  almost  as 
many  nations,  and 
as  varied  in  colour, 
either  from  blood 
or  aversion  to 
water.  Their  skill 
in  swearing  and 
abuse  of  each  other 
was  second  only  to 
that  of  the  regular 
crew,  men  of  foul 
mouths,  the  charac- 
teristic most  notice- 
able among  this 
class  of  men  the 
world  over. 

The  horses  were 
"  stalled  "  separ- 
ately, so  that  they 
could  not  lie  down 
during    the    whole 


voyage.  The  cattle 
were  "  penned 
together  in  herds, 
also  on  the  lower 
deck.  On  the  top 
deck  pens  were  im- 
provised for  the 
sheep. 

Our  sleeping 
quarters  were  down 
in  the  "forecastle," 
adjoining  the  cattle 
pens.  But  the 
human  filth  and 
stench  of  this  "black 
hole "  drove  us  to 
sleep  among  the 
horses.  The  food 
consisted  of  meat 
tougher  than  "bully 
beef,"  soggy  bread 
and  plain  tea.  But 
we  were  more  fortunate  than  the  others 
in  our  food,  for  in  recognition  of  my 
medical  treatment  of  the  steward,  who 
was  ill,  he  permitted  us  to  eat  in  the 
galley  with  the  cooks.  We  ate  stand- 
ing beside  the  dresser,  and  at  times 
had  to  hang  on  to  the  galley  ropes 
with  one  hand  and  feed  with  the  other, 
while  with  our  bodies  we  kept  the 
dishes  from  sliding  off  as  the  ship 
rolled  and  pitched. 

I  had  only  eight  horses  to  feed  and 
water,  but  my  friend  had  twelve.    And 


TONGALAND — RAFTING    MATERIAL    FOR   A   SCHOOLHOUSE 


FROM  CANADA   TO  TONGALAND 


13 


as  I  was  fortunate  in  having^  less  work 
than  my  companion,  so  was  1  more 
fortunate  also  in  being  free  from  sea- 
sickness, while  he,  poor  fellow,  was 
sick  much  of  the  time.  The  regular 
voyage  run  was  nine  days,  New  \'ork 
to  Liverpool,  but  owing  to  mighty 
storms  encountered  during  this  winter 
season  we  were  four  days  overdue. 

One  night,  roused  from  sleep  among 
the  horses  during  a  raging  storm,  we 
learned  that  the  captain,  unable  longer 
to  keep  the  ship  heading  against  the 
wind,  the  huge  vessel  being  as  a  cork 
in   a   boiling  cauldron,    in    terror  and 


horses,  for  life,  struggled  to  retain  their 
feet.  It  was  pitiable  to  see  the  poor 
brutes,  one  moment  thrown  upon  their 
haunches  or  felled  to  the  floor,  the 
next  hurled  with  the  force  of  an  engine 
against  the  breast  planks  and  iron 
stanchions. 

Feed  boxes,  stall  boards,  pails,  lum- 
ber, bundles  of  hay  and  bags  of  grain 
flew  through  space  or  floated  about  the 
flooded  deck.  Sheep  were  shot  out  of 
their  pen,  and  even  men  were  dashed 
from  one  side  to  the  other  and  back 
again.  The  horses,  terrified,  neighed 
and  trembled.      Their  terror  increased 


i' 


PORTlGlksK    roSGALANO— ON   THE   M AI'i    I\    RIVER 


despair  had  determined  to  attempt  to 
turn  and  run  before  the  wind,  .\llwas 
made  ready.  The  last  hope  fluttered 
in  every  heart.  The  signals  sounded. 
See,  she  turns!  The  steel  plates  creak! 
The  tempest  shrieks  among  the  rig- 
ging, bending  the  masts,  and  striking 
her  on  the  weather  beam  with  a  crash; 
it  swings  her  clean  around,  driving  her 
back  upon  her  track  and  the  American 
coast!  For  a  night  and  a  day  he  let 
her  drive — and,  as  I  see  in  my  jour- 
nal, *'  This  has  been  to  us  the  day  of 
days,  a  day  of  a  mighty  storm  at  sea." 
As  a  result  the  hatches  are  strewn 
with  wreckage  and  with  dead,  dying 
and  drowning  sheep — a  hundred  to  a 
hundred  and  fifty  have  perished.     The 


as  to  this  confusion  and  tumult  was 
added  the  bleating  of  the  sheep,  the 
moaning  and  bellowing  of  the  cattle, 
the  whinnying  and  struggling  of  their 
neighbours,  and  the  yelling  and  shout- 
ing and  cursing  of  men. 

The  wind,  howling,  swept  down  the 
stokehold  with  wrath  and  fury;  and  the 
ocean  piled  into  mountainous  billows 
drove  its  water  through  the  portholes, 
scuttles  and  hatches.  She  shipped  sea 
after  sea,  which  flooded  the  horses  to 
the  knees  and  blew  their  drenched  tails 
taut  against  their  bellies.  They  knew 
their  danger.  Fear  stood  out  in  every 
ear  and  muscle,  in  every  eye  and  nos- 
tril. And  the  ship  itself  seemed  struck 
with  the  same  spirit  as  she  rolled  and 


14 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


plunged    and    shuddered   and    creaked 
and  groaned  in  every  steel  plate! 

During  the  thirteen  days'  voyage  our 
clothes  were  not  once  removed,  though 
much  of  the  time  we  were  wet  to  the 
hips  with  sea  water  flooding  the 
manure.  Occasionally  we  took  off  our 
boots  and  socks,  rinsed  them  both  out 
in  the  horse  buckets,  and  put  them  to 
dry  under  the  blankets  on  the  horses. 
On   landing  in  Liverpool  the  first  use 


TONGALAND — MAGISTRATE   COLENBRANDER   AND   CHIEF   NGWANASI 

PHOTOGRAPH   BY   THE   AUTHOR,    AUGUST,    1900 


we  made   of  our  "sea  legs  "  was   to 
waddle  up  to  the  public  baths. 

A  week  was  spent  in  Liverpool  and 
another  in  London  endeavouring  to 
book  for  South  Africa.  We  tried 
every  line  running  to  South  Africa,  and 
were  willing  to  do  anything  from 
stoking  coal  to  commanding  the  ship! 
As  a  last  resort  we  even  called,  late  at 
night,  upon  Sir  Donald  Currie,  man- 
ager of  the  Castle  S.S.  Company,  in 
his  city  mansion,  Hyde  Park.  But 
every  effort  failed.  Though  daily  we 
walked  ourselves  tired,  ate  little  and 


slept  in  cheap  lodgings  in  order  to 
economise,  we  had  peace  of  mind  and 
heartily  enjoyed  our  circumstances  and 
environments. 

It  was  finally  decided  that  I  should 
go  on  alone,  and  Mr.  Hedden  follow 
as  soon  as  possible.  After  paying  for 
steerage  passage  to  Port  Elizabeth, 
and  third-class  rail  to  Johannesburg, 
there  remained  to  each  of  us  eighty- 
nine  cents.  The  parting  was  a  sore 
trial  under  these 
circumstances.  From 
London  I  went  by  train 
to  Southampton,  and 
resumed  my  voyage 
into  the  unknown.  But 
the  position  only 
strengthened  me  in 
spirit,  constraining  me 
to  preach  with  power 
to  my  own  steerage 
fellow-passengers  and 
also  to  the  second 
cabin  passengers  dur- 
ing the  voyage  of  some 
twenty-six  days.  We 
touched  at  Teneriffe 
in  the  Canary  Islands, 
and  landed  on  St. 
Helena  Island,  the 
prison  home  of  Napo- 
leon. 

We  enjoyed  an 
early -morning  stroll 
up  the  valley,  through 
the  neat  white-washed 
Spanish  town,  to  a 
banana  plantation  on 
its  outskirts.  A  stone 
stairway  of  seven 
hundred  steps  led  us  up  the  mountain- 
side to  the  fortress,  which  looks  far 
out  on  the  bosom  of  the  ocean.  After 
lagging  wearily  down  to  the  quay  in 
the  sultry  morning,  I  refreshed  myself 
in  the  clear,  blue  waters  off  St.  Helena 
before  returning  to  the  ship. 

The  third  week  I  landed  in  Cape- 
town, having  sixty-two  cents  left.  An 
interview  with  the  Hon.  Cecil  Rhodes 
at  his  beautiful  home  added  interest  to 
the  very  pleasant  call  of  four  days  in 
Capetown.  A  former  Chicago  friend 
met   me  on   arrival   in   Johannesburg, 


FROM  CANADA    TO  TONGA  LAND 


15 


and  kindly  entertained  me  at  his  pri- 
vate lodgings  until  I  took  up  quarters 
among  the  Kaffirs.  Special  permis- 
sion from  the  Boer  City  Government 
had  to  be  secured  to  reside  in  the  Kaf- 
fir Location,  as  white  people  were  not 
allowed  to  dwell  among  the  natives. 
Another  special  permit  was  granted  to 
me  to  practise  medicine  among  these 
black  people.  By  this  means  I  sup- 
ported myself,  and  preached  the  Gos- 
pel, at  first  through  interpreters.  In 
the  meantime  I 
studied  the  Zulu 
language  during 
the  year  and  a  half 
I  remained  on  the 
Rand,  and  used  it 
among  the  natives 
in  the  Location,  in 
the  city  and  on  the 
gold  mines. 

On  the  mines  the 
preaching  is  done 
mostly  in  the  "com- 
pounds," where  the 
"boys"  gather  and 
squat  on  the  ground 
around  the  mission- 
ary and  hear,  per- 
haps for  the  first 
time,  about  God. 
As  many  tribes  may 
be  represented  in 
the  audience,  the 
teaching  may  be  in- 
terpreted into  three 
or  four  languages 
in  succession.  .■Xs 
the  first  interpreter 
is  likely  to  get  the 

thought  twisted,  the  others  are  sure  to 
get  it  tangled  beyond  recognition.  And 
one's  fluency  in  a  foreign  tongue  is  not 
enhanced  as  he  observes  the  uneasiness 
of  hungry  stomachs  swaying  his  audi- 
ence. .\nd  when  the  *'  porridge  "  horn 
would  blow,  without  waiting  to  say 
"Nexepe"  (excuse  me)  they  would  bolt 
away  for  their  porridge  receptacles  and 
"  line  up  "  in  their  nakedness  (save  the 
loin  cloth)  with  tin  pans,  bowls,  small 
pots,  saucepans,  wash-basins,  biscuit 
and  kerosene  tins;  pot  covers,  pitch- 
ers, powder  casks,  grocery  boxes  and 


"U 


NGWANASI,    PARAMOUNT  CHIIF  OF 
KRITISH    TONGALAND 


iron  buckets!  Thus  strung  out  in  long 
single  files  from  the  porridge  oven 
(some  mines  have  as  many  as  two 
thousand  "  boys  ")  they  would  "step 
up"  to  the  black  "cook"  and  have 
their  share  of  the  "  impupu  "  plunked 
into  their  vessels  from  a  shovel;  with 
which  implement  the  cook  also  stirred 
the  cornmeal  porridge  in  the  several 
caldrons  from  his  position  on  the  top 
of  the   "oven." 

Should  the  boys  get  impatient  and 
crowd,  the  cook, 
having  a  heavy 
sjamboke  (whip  of 
hippopotamus 
hide),  would  slash 
them  unmercifully 
with  it,  shouting 
"  Boss  up!" 

This  year  and  a 
half  were  interest- 
ing and  exciting 
times,  leading  up 
to  the  Boer  war. 
When  down  in 
Pretoria,  some  three 
months  before  this 
event,  when  the  ex- 
citement was  at  its 
height  and  every- 
body, both  Boer  and 
Outlander,  daily  ex- 
pected hostilities  to 
be  declared,  I  enjoy- 
ed an  agreeable  call 
on  the  old  gentle- 
man of  the  "White 
House,"  Oom  Paul. 
Returning  from  the 
Parliament  Build- 
ings ill  his  four-in-hand  coach,  with 
liveried  footmen  and  uniformed  out- 
riders, the  President,  though  aged,  step- 
ped from  the  carriage  and  brushed  into 
the  White  House  with  the  alacrity  of  a 
young  man, and  presently  we  were  both 
seated  on  the  verandah — the  old  man, 
with  massive  frame,  and  with  coarse 
and  heavy,  but  commanding  features, 
wearing  his  stovepipe  hat,  and  puflBng 
hard  at  his  famous  big  pipe,  sat  before 
me  leaning  upon  his  cane.  The  polit- 
ical tension  was  so  great  I  could  not 
touch  upon  it,  so  our  interview  had  to 


i6 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


A   PICKANINNIE    BEER   DRINKING    PARTY 


be  limited  to  personal  remarks  and 
"small  talk."  Discontinuing  hissmoke 
for  a  while,  and  removing  the  green 
goggles  which  he  wore,  his  eyes  were 
seen  to  be  terribly  inflamed,  and  he 
went  on  to  explain  that  he  was  under 
medical  treatment  for  them.  He  re- 
marked that  excepting  this  ailment  he 
felt  as  healthy  and  as  buoyant  as  in 
youth.  Notwithstanding  the  breaking 
strain  he  was  labouring  under  (with 
possibly  the  War  Ultimatum  already 
in  his  pocket)  he  appeared  at  ease  and 
was  agreeable,  but  would  not  speak  in 
English,  and  limited  himself  to  an  in- 
terpreter whom  I  had  procured  at  the 
Detective  Office  of  the  Police  Depart- 
ment, as  was  then  required  by  Gov- 
ernment. 

Six  weeks  before  war  was  declared, 
I  entered  into  engagement  with  the 
South  Africa  General  Mission  to  go 
into  British  Tongaland,  Province  of 
Zululand,  as  pioneer  missionary  and 
Government  acting  district  surgeon. 
Again  medical  knowledge  provided  for 
my  support  through  the  salary  receiv- 
ed from  the  Government. 

From  Johannesburg  I  went  by  rail, 
down  to  Durban,  Natal.  Here  I  pur- 
chased supplies  for  a  year.  With 
over  a  hundred  dollars'  worth  of  drugs 
supplied  bythe  Government  and,  includ- 
ing   other    additions    made    later    at 


Delagoa  Bay,  the 
stuff  amounted  to 
thirty-two  native 
loads.  Thejourney 
from  Durban  into 
isolation  required  a 
month.  From 
Durban  I  went  to 
Delagoa  Bay  by 
steamship.  At 
Delagoa  a  sail  and 
row  boat,  about 
thirty  feet  long,  was 
hired  to  go  to  the 
head  of  navigation, 
on  the  Maputa 
River.  The  boat 
was  manned  by 
two  natives,  one  of 
whom  was  called 
the  *'  induna, "  or 
captain.  A  missionary  from  Delagoa 
Bay,  a  Mr.  Benoit,  kindly  consented 
to  accompany  me  and  return  with  the 
boat.  All  the  supplies  were  stored 
away  into  this  open  boat,  and  early 
one  morning  we  sailed  out  of  Delagoa 
Bay  into  the  Indian  Ocean  and  during 
the  afternoon  entered  the  Maputa 
River. 

During  the  second  evening  of  this 
voyage  we  narrowly  escaped  being 
wrecked  by  a  hippopotamus,  this 
virgin  African  river  being  infested  with 
them  and  with  crocodiles.  Night  was 
coming  down,  and  dull  angry  clouds 
spat  fitful  showers  at  us.  The  tide 
was  running  out,  and  the  wind  blew 
with  it,  driving  the  deep  and  dark 
muddy  river  to  the  sea  with  ominous 
speed.  Gloom  possessed  us  all,  in 
this  wilderness,  but  the  boatmen  pull- 
ed faithfully  and  hard  at  the  oars.  On 
our  approach  the  water  fowl,  settled 
for  the  night  among  the  reeds,  would 
start  with  cries  of  alarm  and  fly  away 
to  safety  in  the  marshes. 

Looking  up  stream,  we  sighted  on 
the  water  the  little  ears  and  eyes  and 
great  nostrils  of  a  hippopotamus,  bear- 
ing down  upon  us.  The  natives 
trembled  !  They  are  always  coward- 
ly. "Let's  have  some  fun  with  him  !" 
I  called  to  my  friend.  He  sprang  to 
the  stern  with  an  assegai  (spear)  and 


FROM  CANADA    TO  TONG ALAND 


I  mounted  the  bow  with  a  shot  gun. 
The  hippopotamus,  startled  with  the 
strange  sight,  shook  the  river  with  a 
snort  like  a  pig  grunt  and  disappeared 
as  is  their  habit.  We  waited,  ready 
for  its  reappearance,  but  as  it  did  not 
again  appear  by  the  time  we  thought  it 
should,  one  grumbled  with  disappoint- 
ment, "We've  lost  our  fun  !"  With 
the  words,  we  were  lifted  clean  out  of 
the  water  and  dashed  among  the 
branches  of  a  big  tree  laying  in  the 
stream,  and  up  over  the  gunwale 
came  the  hippopotamus'  head  and  feet, 
with  mouth  wide  open  and  eyes  and 
tusks  gleaming.      I  aimed  the  gun  at 


wild  hog,  jackal,  fox  and  many  other 
small  animals;  numerous  varieties  of 
the  buck  and  antelope;  several  varieties 
of  monkeys  and  baboons;  crocodiles, 
fish  and  numerous  kinds  of  water  fowl 
and  land  birds. 

A  tramp  of  fifty  miles  over  hot, 
sandy  paths  brought  me,  at  last,  to  my 
destination.  The  seat  of  government, 
previously  at  this  place,  had  recently 
been  removed  to  the  Lubombo  Moun- 
tains, some  sixty  miles  distant.  1  was 
assigned  one  of  the  vacated  buildings 
as  a  dwelling. 

On  my  arrival,  on  October  5th,  1899, 
there  were  only  three  other  white  men 


MR.    waters'   RESmENCE   IN   TONGALAND— MADE  OF  WATTLE   AWD  CLAY   WITH 

THATCHED  ROOF 


his  mouth,  but  refrained  from  shooting, 
fearing  to  only  wound  him.  Down  he 
went  and  we  stood  fixed  with  terror, 
expecting  the  next  moment  to  be 
smashed  up  by  the  great  brute  !  Mo- 
ments seemed  like  hours,  till  at  last  he 
reappeared  down  stream,  having  been 
swept  down  by  the  current,  while  we 
were  stuck  in  the  tree,  our  only  damage 
being  an  oar  broken. 

At  the  head  of  navigation  I  had  to 
wait  two  weeks  for  carriers.  Though 
here  alone  in  the  wilderness,  I  enjoyed 
this  "hunters'  paradise"  of  South-East 
Africa.  There  is  a  place  known  to  the 
writer  where,  within  a  radius  of  some 
fifteen  miles,  is  found  the  elephant, 
rhinoceros,     hippopotamus,     leopard, 


in  the  territory,  viz.,  two  mounted 
policemen  and  a  trader.  Chief  Ngwa- 
nasi,  who  had  requested  the  Govern- 
ment to  send  a  missionary  to  his  peo- 
ple, came  with  his  retinue  and  gave 
me  a  warm  welcome  as  missionary, 
but  a  no  less  hearty  reception  as  sur- 
geon, he  having  a  lame  foot  at  the 
time !  Natives  are  very  keen  for 
medical  treatment,  and  look  to  the 
white  man  to  perform  miracles  with 
his  medicines.  A  blazer  jacket  was 
presented  to  the  chief  in  token  of 
friendship.  He  returned  the  compli- 
ment later.  For  several  years  our 
friendship  increased  and  our  inten 
courses  were  frequent.  His  subjects 
numbered  ten  or  twelve  thousand  and 


i8 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


y////;^^ 


X^'v 


PORTUGUESE  POLICE  CAMP  AT  USUTU  PORT,  PORTUGUESK  lOM. ALAND 


his  wives  forty-six.  Previous  to  1897, 
at  which  date  the  British  took  posses- 
sion at  his  request,  Ngwanasi  had  been 
king  of  all  the  Tongas,  i.e.y  what  is 
now  called  Portuguese  and  British 
Tongalands. 

Ten  days  after  my  arrival,  the  Boer 
war  having  broken  out,  the  white 
policemen  and  part  of  the  native  police 
force  were  called  up  to  the  mountains  to 
defend  the  magistracy  against  the  Boers. 
This  left  me  the  only  Government 
servant  in  the  land  and  with  the  watch- 
care  of  it,  having  the  remainder  of  the 
native  police  force  under  my  supervision. 

A  few  days  later  a  native  runner 
came  in  haste,  bringing  a  message 
from  the  police,  saying  that  they  were 
in  flight  before  the  Boers,  who  had 
destroyed  the  magistracy  and  were 
coming  down  to  Maputa,  and  that  the 
trader  and  I  should  flee  for  our  lives. 
My  first  thought  was  to  do  so,  but 
after  deliberation  and  prayer  I  decided 
to  remain  at  the  post  of  duty.  The 
trader,  however,  fled  in  the  night  for 


Delagoa  Bay,  and  did  not  return  for  a 
month,  during  which  period  I  was  the 
only  white  man  in  the  country.  And 
the  police  department  not  returning  for 
thirteen  months,  the  general  watchcare 
of  the  territory  continued  in  my  hands 
during  this  period.  Soon  after  hos- 
tilities began,  the  Government  was 
pleased  to  add  to  my  duties  and  cares 
as  missionary,  school  teacher,  physi- 
cian and  guardian  of  the  country, 
besides  extensive  travel  in  itinerating, 
exploration  and  watching  for  the  Boers, 
the  two  other  appointments  as  post- 
master and  border  customs  officer, 
with  charge  of  the  native  forces  at- 
taching to  these  departments. 

Nearly  four  years  were  spent  in  this 
unique  isolation.  But  the  many  and 
thrilling  experiences  of  these  years, 
and  also  of  the  previous  years  on  the 
Gold  Fields,  cannot,  of  course,  be  told 
in  the  scope  of  a  single  magazine 
article.  I  shall,  however,  attempt  to 
give  some  idea  of  my  experience  in 
Tongaland  in  another  issue. 


TO  BE  CONCLUDED  NEXT  MONTH 


THE  THINGS  THAT  ARE  AT  NIGHT 

By  A  UBRE  Y  FULL  ER  TOX 


T  was  turning  six  when  1 
left  the  house,  and  a  merry 
din  of  bells  and  whistles 
sounded  from  either  end  of 
the  city.  In  the  later  hours 
of  the  afternoon  a  partial  stillness  had 
fallen,  in  warning  of  the  night,  but 
now  the  busy  noise  of  the  streets  sud- 
denly increased.  Like  the  storm-burst 
after  a  lull,  the  confusion  of  the  days 
ending  broke  upon  a  moment's  quiet 
with  quick  force  and  loud  report,  yet 
cheerfully.  People  were  already  mov- 
ing homeward:  some  drove  in  carriages, 
some  rode  awheel,  and  many  were 
afoot.  They  were  well- conditioned 
people,  with  whom  life  seemed  to  ^o 
brightly,  and  it  was  pleasant,  in  meet- 
ing and  passing,  to  note  the  eager 
faces  and  the  apparent  good  spirits. 
Night  comes  gently  up-town.  As  I 
neared  the  centre  of  the  city  the  crowd 
greatly  increased  and,  at  the  same 
time,  changed.  Men  and  women  in 
plainer  garb  and  less  lively  manner 
came  now  in  twos  and  threes  ;  faces 
that  seemed  worn  and  tired  took  the 
places  of  the  animated  ones  I  had  seen 
a  few  moments  before  ;  yet  they  were 
equally  eager  and  perhaps  equally 
happy.  It  was,  indeed,  for  these  and 
not  for  them  that  day  changed  into 
night  with  greatest  welcome.  For 
these  were  the  toilers,  the  men  and 
women  who  had  been  at  work  since 
morning  and  now  were  free. 

By  a  short  cut  through  ati  un- 
frequented street  I  escaped  the  stress 
of  the  crowd,  now  becoming  intense, 
and  came  into  it  again  at  a  point  lower 
down,  where  it  divided  in  different 
directions.  It  was  a  pleasant  time  to 
leave  off  work,  the  fine  mid-fall  even- 
ing seeming  outwardly  restful,  yet 
suggestive  also  of  warm  cheer  indoors; 
and  the  workers  felt  the  latter  influence 
if  not  the  other.  Kmptying  the  mills, 
and  shops,  and  offices,  they  filled  the 
streets,  an  eager  crowd  that  was 
quickly  gathered  and  would  soon  pass. 


The  trolley  cars  filled  and  hurried  off, 
east,  and  north,  and  south,  and  west, 
but  here,  as  uptown,  the  greater 
number  were  those  who  walked  or 
wheeled.  Their  common  purpose  was 
to  get  home,  mine  to  follow  them  ; 
and,  indeed,  without  any  effort  of  my 
own  I  was  presently  caught  in  the  cur- 
rent and  pressed  on  with  it  for  several 
blocks.  Breaking  loose  where  two 
streets  crossed,  I  took  a  favourable 
stand  at  the  corner  and  watched  the 
crowd  go  by,  no  longer  myself  a  part 
of  it.  On  and  on  and  on  they  went — 
good-natured,  talkative,  and  probably 
hungry.  An  army  of  soldiers  on  the 
move  is  picturesque  becau.se  of  its 
uniformity,  an  army  of  workers  be- 
cause of  its  variety. 

I  boarded  a  car  and  found  it  a  re- 
production of  the  street.  Mixed  among 
office-girls  and  sales-clerks  were  some 
belated  shoppers,  known  by  their  par- 
cels; and  well-to-do  business  men 
shared  standing-room  with  labourers- 
by-the-day.  I  caught  myself  surmis- 
ing the  work  from  which  each  had 
come  and  the  home  to  which  each  was 
going.  I  know  not  how  well  I  guess- 
ed, but  a  man's  calling  does,  more  or 
less  plainly,  fasten  its  marks  upon  him. 
To  most  of  my  fellow-passengers,  I 
thought,  the  day  had  been  but  one  of 
a  thousand,  all  alike,  but  with  others 
something  out  of  the  ordinary  may 
have  happened,  to  be  talked  over  at 
home  and  long  remembered.  One  by 
one  they  dropped  otT  at  their  appointed 
corners,  and  at  the  turning  of  the  road 
I  too  got  out. 

For  the  walk  back  I  chose  another 
route,  which  led  past  many  of  the  peo- 
ple's homes.  The  crowd  had  been  in- 
teresting, but  it  was  good  to  swing 
my  own  gait  again,  where  no  crowds 
were.  The  people  whom  I  had  seen 
hurrying  away  from  shops  and  offices 
were  now,  some  of  them,  within  their 
own  doors.  The  houses  were  alight, 
and  an  undrawn  blind  here  and   thert 


20 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


showed  the  assembled  family  at  even- 
ing- meal.  Further  on  I  passed  a  row 
of  boarding  houses,  those  makeshift 
homes  of  homeless  clerks  and  students, 
from  whose  basement  kitchens  came 
familiar  savours. 

Back  again  to  the  heart  of  the  city, 
I  found  that  the  stress  of  the  crowd 
had  greatly  lightened.  Workmen  v\  ho 
had  been  delayed,  or  had  had  errands 
of  their  own,  moved  in  fewer  numbers, 
but  more  impatiently;  and  the  news- 
boys cried  louder,  but  sold  less. 
Many  of  the  smaller  stores  were  still 
open  and  would  remain  so  till  eight  or 
nine  o'clock,  seeking  such  custom  as 
late  buyers  might  bring  their  way. 
The  streets,  never  quite  empty,  had  so 
thinned  out  that  it  was  easy  now  to 
"track"  a  man,  and  I  observed  several 
enter  these  open  shops  and  come  out 
presently  with  parcels — something,  no 
doubt,  that  the  wife  wanted  at  horne. 
But,  allowing  for  all  delays,  another 
half-hour  would  see  the  city's  workmen 
housed  and  fed. 

And  then  a  strange  thing  happened. 
Work  recommenced.  Lights  appear- 
ed in  near-by  warehouses  and  offices, 
and  I  saw  men  hurrying  thither — not 
so  many  and  not  so  eager  as  those  who 
had  hurried  out,  but  still  as  with  a 
purpose ;  for  these  were  the  workers 
who  turned  night  into  day. 

Every  twelve  hours  the  work-a-day 
drama  runs  its  length  and  begins 
anew.  At  six  o'clock,  or  thereabouts, 
the  scenes  are  shifted;  the  world  stops, 
turns  back,  and  then  goes  on  again. 
One  set  of  workers  goes  home  to  rest 
and  sleep,  but  at  almost  the  same  hour 
a  lesser  throng,  to  whom  the  evening 
is  a  second  morning,  begins.  The 
one  marks  its  calendar  by  daylight, 
and  the  other  by  lamp  and  lantern. 

There  is  an  interval,  however,  be- 
tween the  day's  end  and  sleeping  time 
that  is  busy  with  a  life  peculiarly  its 
own.  It  belongs  neither  to  the  day 
nor  to  the  actual  night,  yet  partakes  of 
both.  For  two  or  three  hours  there 
is  a  recess  for  play,  beginning  to- 
ward eight,  when  the  pleasure-seekers 
come  out   to    see   and    hear.       Every 


night  brings  holiday,  and  summer  or 
winter,  the  city  observes  it  with  much 
ado. 

I  walked  up  street  again,  and  met 
new  crowds,  for  by  this  time  the 
theatre-goers  were  moving.  The 
boards  announced  rare  treats  to-night, 
in  tempting  promise  of  which  the  open 
doors  let  out  great  floods  of  light. 
They  were  merry  folk  who  went  in- 
side, themselves  making  drama  while 
they  sought  a  play.  Music  halls  and 
churches  were  also  alight.  Theatre, 
opera,  concert,  lecture,  prayer  meeting 
— every  man  to  his  liking.  At  one  of 
the  fine  houses  which  I  passed  an 
evening  party  was  beginning,  and 
would  probably  be  still  in  progress 
long  after  midnight.  I  went  no  fur- 
ther, but  taking  this  one  street  as  an 
example  of  many  others,  I  made  an 
imaginative  estimate  of  the  number 
and  variety  of  the  evening's  events 
throughout  the  city.  Vox  this  was 
play-time. 

Thus  far  I  had  seen  the  change  from 
day  to  night,  the  crowded  home-going 
of  the  day-workers  and  the  arrival  of 
the  others,  the  quieting  of  the  city 
streets  and  the  beginning  of  the  night's 
festivities.  With  goings  to  and  fro  I 
had  filled  in  the  three  first  and  busiest 
hours  of  the  night,  and  it  was  now 
past  nine  o'clock.  I  turned  again  to 
the  down-town  streets,  where  the  real 
life  of  the  night  is  most  apparent,  and 
where  work  goes  on  unceasingly.  One 
of  the  large  factories  was  in  full  oper- 
ation, and  the  rumble  of  wheels  and 
the  thud  of  hammers  sounded  out  dis- 
tinctly in  the  quiet  street.  There  is  a 
fascination  about  mills  that  run  at 
night.  The  cheeriest  music  I  have 
ever  heard  was  the  sharp  ringing  buzz 
of  great  round  saws  in  a  lumber  mill, 
working  topmost  speed  at  midnight. 
Long  usage  accustoms  the  night-work- 
er to  read  the  laws  of  nature  inversely. 
He  sleeps  while  others  work,  and  works 
while  others  sleep.  He  does  his  day's 
work,  but  he  does  it  at  night.  If  you 
ask  him  about  it,  he  says  he  can  work 
as  well,  suffers  no  inconvenience,  and 
feels  no  ill  effects;  but  in  the  long  run 


THE  THINGS  THAT  ARE  AT  NIGHT 


21 


the  habitual  night-worker  falls  before 
the  day-worker. 

Down  on  the  water-front  1  found  a 
vantage-point  for  both  seeing  and 
thinking.  A  steamer  discharging 
freight,  two  little  schooners  swinging 
idly  at  their  berths,  with  lights  in  the 
cabin  but  not  a  soul  astir;  the  clumsy 
ferry-boat  puffing  up  the  harbour  with 
a  score  or  so  of  passengers,  while  as 
many  were  waiting  to  return — these 
were  the  night  scenes  at  the  wharf. 
Looking  townward,  the  lights  from 
many  buildings  made  an  irregular  out- 
line of  bright  spots  in  the  darkness, 
like  lower  stars.  Long  rows  of  street 
lamps  crossed  the  city  to  its  farthest 
limits,  and  I  wished  a  bird's-eye  view 
were  possible. 

Yes,  the  city  must  have  its  light. 
Yonder  was  the  power-station,  with  its 
high  chimney  belching  fiery  smoke, 
and  through  an  open  door  I  caught  a 
glimpse  ot  the  great  fly-wheels,  busily 
spinning  the  whole  night  through. 

Leaving  the  water-front  and  coming 
again  into  the  streets,  1  found  them 
quiet  and  almost  bare.  From  this  out 
there  would  be  only  such  traffic  as 
night  affairs  made  necessary.  The 
theatres  had  closed,  and  for  a  while 
the  cabs  and  trolleys  had  been  busy; 
but  there  would  now  be  no  more 
crowds  till  morning. 

From  one  of  the  committee-rooms  of 
the  City  Hall  the?fe  g^leamed  a  light; 
evidently  the  city's  business  was  re- 
quiring late  hours.  Matters  of  public 
import  are  not  infrequently  worked  out 
while  the  public  is  asleep,  and  as  a 
case  in  point  there  came  to  mind  a 
night  once  spent  in  the  Canadian 
House  of  Commons.  An  important 
question  had  been  under  final  dis- 
cussion since  early  afternoon.  The 
debate  continued  through  the  evening 
and  the  night,  and  toward  five  in  the 
morning  the  vote  was  taken.  Day 
was  breaking  when  the  House  ad- 
journed. 

There  are  a  number  of  places, 
however,  where  night  hours  are  noth- 
ing novel,  but  even  more  necessary 
than  in  the  mills  and  warehouses. 
Telegraph  and  telephone  offices  never 


lock  their  doors,  their  work  going  on 
incessantly  by  night  as  well  as  by  day. 
Ear  down  to  catch  the  news,  the  men 
who  hold  the  wires  maintain  connec- 
tion between  the  sleeping  city  and  the 
universe,  and  in  the  night  watches  it  is 
almost  an  uncanny  thing  to  talk  across 
the  continent  or  the  ocean.  I  won- 
dered what  weighty  tidings  were  mov- 
ing now,  of  which  we  should  hear  per- 
haps in  the  morning  papers.  Thus 
from  telegraphs  to  newspapers,  and, 
following  the  suggestion,  I  made  my 
way  to  one  of  the  offices  where  editors 
and  typos  work  all  night.  A  news- 
paper office  is  the  one  place  on  earth 
to  which  admittance  is  always  to  be 
had,  presumably  with  welcome,  and 
boldly  therefore  I  climbed  the  stairs  to 
the  journalistic  work-room.  The  click 
of  type-machines  and  the  general  hurry- 
hither  gave  at  once  an  impression  of 
something  doing.  Here  was  the  peo- 
ple's news  preparing  for  them  while 
they  slept — a  grist  of  great  and  little 
affairs  that  must  first  be  winnowed, 
digested,  and  labelled.  It  was  a  busy 
place,  more  busy  than  it  had  been  by 
day.  and  no  let-up  possible  until  the 
public  had  its  papers. 

I  rested  for  a  little  in  a  reportorial 
chair,  for  I  had  been  long  afoot.  Two 
chairs  away  from  me  was  the  Night 
Editor,  shirt-sleeved,  and  not  Xo  be 
bothered.  Night  work  here  was  seri- 
ous. A  few  hours  later  the  hurry 
would  reach  its  climax,  the  press 
would  start,  the  mailers  and  bundlers 
would  get  to  work,  and  by  daybreak 
the  morning  edition  would  be  off. 
Meanwhile,  however,  there  was  news 
to  get.  The  Night  Editor  called  one 
of  his  men  and  said  "  Police  Station." 
I  went  with  him. 

It  is  a  doubly  dark  side  of  the 
night  that  is  known  to  the  city  police- 
men. They  see  and  hear  the  tragic 
things  of  which  the  rest  of  us  learn 
second-hand,  or  not  at  all.  There 
were  already  five  night-prisoners  at 
the  station  when  we  reached  it,  and  no 
doubt  an  hour  or  so  would  bring  more. 
One  of  the  cases  was  of  some  import- 
ance, and  furnished  material  which, 
the  reporter  said,  would  make  interest- 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


ing^  news  the  next  morning.  When 
morning  came,  too,  there  would  be  for 
these  misdoers  the  dreaded  Police 
Court,  and  the  revelations  of  open 
day.  Under  cover  of  the  night,  evil 
waxes  bold  and  stalks  abroad,  or 
makes  the  still  hours  hideous  in  dives 
and  dens.  Yet  the  night  is  not  evil.  It 
was  once  as  pure  as  day,  and  to  the 
pure  man  it  still  is  so. 

With  this  glimpse  of  the  unpleasant 
night-life,  I  sought  again  some  cheer- 
ier phase.  A  car,  running  now  at 
long  intervals,  was  at  the  corner,  and 
I  went  to  the  railway  depot.  The 
trains  had  aH  cfone  out.  Strangely 
contrasting  with  its  daytime  bustle, 
the  great  shed  was  echoing  only  a 
voice  here  and  there  anil  the  noise  of 
an  occasional  truck.  Long  rows  of 
empty  cars  stood  on  the  tracks,  and  a 
score  of  men  were  cleaning  them.  In 
those  same  cars  many  travellers  had 
that  day  come  to  the  city,  and  some 
who  had  gone  further  on  were  still 
travelling.  Night  journeys,  oft-repeat- 
ed, are  wearisome,  but  as  a  first  ex- 
perience it  is  pleasant  to  speed  into  the 
night  on  an  unknown  path,  catching 
mysterious  and  fitful  glimpses  of  town 
and  country  from  car  windows  or  rear 
platforms. 

Some  incoming  trains  were  still  due, 
and  presently  from  down  the  line  there 
sounded  a  shrill  whistle  and  clanging 
bell.  The  station  wakened  into  life 
again.  A  little  band  of  weary  waiters 
gathered  at  the  track,  and  almost  at 
their  feet  the  midnight  express  came 
to  a  stop,  engine  panting  loudly,  like 
a  big  tired  human. 

I  followed  a  passenger  to  his  hotel, 
and  there  found  another  phase  of  night- 
work.  The  office  was  quiet,  but  ready 
for  business,  and  the  new-comer  fared 
better,  perhaps,  than  a  day  guest  would 
have  done.  Elsewhere  in  the  building 
preparations  had  been  already  made  for 
the  morrow's  meals,  and  bake  shops 
down  the  street  were  cooking  the 
breakfast  bread. 

A  light  strayed  out  from  the  window 
of  a  "  Meals-at-all-hours  "  restaurant, 
and  the  time  seemed  fitting  to  break 
my  own  fast.     There  were  both  food 


and  fun  inside,  for  a  group  of  college 
boys  were  doing  honour  to  a  football 
champion  who  had  won  them  a  victory 
that  day — or,  now,  the  day  before. 
Speeches,  songs  and  college  yells  go 
merrily  at  night,  and  the  later  the  hour 
the  more  of  zest  and  the  less  concern 
for  to-morrow's  classes.  As  for  my- 
self, 1  was  out  for  the  night,  and  this 
was  one  of  the  night's  events. 

At  two  o'clock  an  alarm  of  fire  rang 
suddenly  and  noisily.  I  knew  the 
number,  and  quite  ready  for  some  new 
excitement,  hurried  down  the  street. 
The  firemen  were  already  at  work, 
and  a  small  crowd,  not  fully  awake, 
had  gathered  from  round  about.  The 
clatter  of  a  fire  engine  through  the 
streets  at  dead  of  night  is  disturbing, 
but  they  who  wake  pay  little  heed  to 
it  unless  the  cause  be  near  their  own 
door.  Yet  a  fire  is  seen  best  at  night, 
when  the  shafts  of  flame  show  vividly 
against  the  darkness.  The  house  was 
gone — a  littlfe  dwelling  in  which  some 
workman's  family  had  had  its  home, 
and  from  which  they  were  now  rudely 
expelled  with  nothing  but  their  lives. 
Here  was  domestic  misfortune  which 
made  the  fire  seem  not  so  picture>que. 

I  had  now  seen  enough.  For  an- 
other two  hours  things  would  go  on 
very  much  the  same,  and  then  the  city 
woiild  be  waking.  Meanwhile  I  turned 
to  one  of  the  public  squares,  where 
there  were  benches,  and  sat  down. 
The  night  was  not  uncomfortably  cool, 
and  its  crisp  freshness  was  a  pleasant 
brace  to  tired  limbs.  A  multitude  of 
impressions  which  had  fixed  them- 
selves in  my  mind  during  the  past 
eight  or  nine  hours  gave  me  food  to 
think  upon.  There  is  undoubtedly 
something  in  night  experiences  which 
make  them  last;  they  are  remembered 
long  afterward,  and  sometimes  with 
startling  clearness.  It  is  probably  be- 
cause night  experiences  are  rarer  than 
those  by  day  that  we  so  well  remember 
them;  but  I  prefer  to  think  it  a  subtle 
influence  of  the  Night  Spirit.  There 
stand  out  sharply  in  my  own  memory 
a  number  of  nights,  with  each  of  which 
some  particular  experience  is  forever 
associated.       Very    commonplace    ex- 


THE  THINGS  THAT  ARE  AT  NIGHT 


23 


periences  they  were  —  nothing  more 
than  nights  on  the  water,  or  in  camp, 
or  at  the  old  home,  night  journeys, 
visits  to  lighthouses,  moonlight  ram- 
bles in  the  fields,  sick-room  vigils,  and 
such  like — but  they  gave  rise,  then  and 
after,  to  thoughts  and  feelings  out  of 
all  proportion  to  their  importance. 
Not  the  experiences  themselves,  but 
the  time,  makes  these  things  memor- 
able, and  not  their  own  significance, 
but  the  effectual  working  of  the  Spirit 
of  the  Night,  gives  them  moral 
value. 

The  impressions  of  the  moment  were 
restful  and  pleasant.  The  great  heart 
of  the  city  was  asleep,  and  so  still  was 
everything  that  I  heard  my  own  breath- 
ing, while  the  quarter-hours  of  the 
cown  clock  rang  out  clear  and  strong. 
It  had  all  been  so  busy  at  six  o'clock, 
would  be  so  busy  again  when  daylight 
came  !  I  forgot  for  a  time  that  work 
was  still  going  on  here  and  there;  the 
city  seemed  at  rest. 

I  must  have  fallen  asleep,  for  when  I 
next  looked  about  me  it  was  with  a 
sudden  start,  and  wonderingly.  1 
thought  I  had  dreamed,  too.  .And 
then  it  came  to  me  that  the  people  of 
the  city  were  dreaming,  even  as  I  had 
done.  I  had  seen  the  life  of  the  day 
and  the  life  of  the  night,  but  there  was 
a  third,  more  mysterious  than  either, 
the  wayward  dream-life.  The  sleeping 
multitude  was  not  dead,  but  living 
more  gloriously,  perhaps,  than  ever  it 
could  live  by  day,  fighting  battles, 
winning    fame,   doing  and    achieving. 


It  was  a  purely  ideal  life,  but  it  might, 
in  many  cases,  have  a  practical  influ- 
ence on  real  life.  There  would  be 
degrees  in  this  busy  dream-life,  for  ac- 
cording to  individual  abilities  by  day 
are  the  visions  by  night.  Very  differ- 
ent, I  thought,  would  be  the  fantasies 
now  passing  before  a  professor  whom 
I  knew,  an  aesthetic  man,  and  the 
dream-experiences  of  another  friend, 
the  scheming  manager  of  a  newspaper. 
I  could  go  no  farther.  It  was  a  book 
tight-sealed  to  me,  and  what  variety  of 
form  or  action,  what  degree  of  fear  or 
delight,  this  unconscious  life  of  the 
city  was  now  assuming,  I  could  only 
guess.  Awake  or  asleep,  how  mighty 
a  thing  is  a  city  of  people  ! 

There  were  signs  of  dawn.  The 
trees  stirred  slightly  above  the  bench, 
and  some  chirping  sparrows  were  al- 
ready on  the  move.  Here  and  there  a 
light  and  a  fresh  wreath  of  smoke  an- 
nounced an  early  riser,  for  whom  an- 
other day  had  now  commenced.  It 
was  still  dark,  but  gradually  the  morn- 
ing gray  came  on;  the  street  lights 
sputtered  and  then  died  out.  Delivery 
waggons  began  to  appear,  and  trolleys 
shunted  out  of  their  sheds  on  schedule 
time.  The  procession  of  workers  also 
began,  and  in  a  short  time  the  streets 
were  busy.  It  would  be  two  hours  yet 
before  the  bulk  oi  the  people  were 
astir,  but  the  early  ones  were  moving 
now,  and  the  day  had  set.  I  took  the 
hint,  and  again  trudged  on.  When  I 
reached  the  house  it  was  after  six,  and 
the  city  had  resumed  its  noise. 


THE  WINGS  OF  NIGHT 


By  T.    W.  KING 


HE  snow  was  drifting  and 
the  day  express  from  Mon- 
treal was  belated.  The 
few  passengers  wandered 
from  one  Pullman  to  an- 
other—  nervous,  irresolute,  discon- 
tented, Westmorland  himself  had 
risen  and  was  pacing  the  aisle,  like  a 
sentry  upon  his  beat.  Each  time  as 
he  passed  where  Grace  McClain  and 
her  child  were  seated,  he  glanced  smil- 
ingly towards  them. 

"Come  Bertha,"  he  said,  as  he 
paused  for  a  moment  beside  them, 
"  let  us  take  Mamma  to  dinner." 

The  child  sprang  to  his  arms  with  a 
cry  of  delight. 

**  Hurry,  Mamma,"  she  said,  * 'we're 
going  to  dinner." 

"  You  are  spoiling  her,"  Grace  re- 
monstrated, '*  but  she  loves  you  dear- 

**  I  certainly  succeed  better  with 
her,"  rejoined  Westmorland,  as  they 
seated  themselves  at  the  table,  "  than 
I  do  with  her  mother.  Like  measles 
or  mumps,  I  am  dangerous  only  to 
children.  Young  ladies  from  three  to 
five  I  find  are  very  susceptible;  but 
after  that  thev  get  to  be — " 

"Married?" 

"No,  adolescent." 

"And  how  old  is  that?" 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know — twenty-five." 

"Twenty-five!    I  like  that!" 

"  Oh,  you  aren't  that  old?" 

"Certainly  not." 

"Anyhow,  you're  too  old.  When 
they  get  to  your  age  I  find  that  I  am 
outclassed." 

"  Perhaps  you  arrive  too  late!" 

Upon  their  return  they  found  the 
car  deserted.  The  child,  fretful  and 
sleepy,  now  gladly  came  to  her  moth- 
er's arms  for  rest.  Westmorland 
seated  himself  across  the  aisle  and 
gazed  fondly  upon  them — the  mother, 
herself  but  a  girl;  slight,  yet  womanly, 
with  hair  that  seemed  black   by  con- 


trast with  her  eyes  of  blue;  eyes  soft 
and  gentle,  yet  large  and  bright. 

"We  are  the  playthings  of  fate," 
he  murmured  sadly.  "  I  will  see  that 
picture  in  Scotland  as  plainly  as  I  see 
it  now." 

As  Grace  gently  laid  the  sleeping 
child  to  rest,  he  took  his  seat  beside 
her,  and  she  asked: 

"You  will  keep  your  promise  to 
me?" 

And  he  answered: 

"Yes;  the  train  that  catches  my 
steamer  leaves  Montreal  Sunday 
noon." 

"  It  is  best  for  you  to  go." 

"  Would  it  make  any  difference  if  I 
waited  until  summer?" 

"  It  might;  the  day  may  come  when 
I  cannot  tell  you  to  go.  It  is  hard 
for  me  now;  but  my  duty  is  too  plain." 

"  So  far  as   your   marriage  goes — " 

"Yes,  I  know  all  that  you  can  say 
about  that!  I  might  obtain  a  divorce 
at  Ottawa;  any  court  in  your  country, 
of  course,  would  divorce  me;  many 
clergymen  perhaps  will  say  that  once 
divorced  I  may,  if  I  choose,  remarry. 
But  my  conscience  is  not  in  their  keep- 
ing; I  am  bound — rashly  and  foolishly — 
bound!  You  are  an  American,  and  you 
cannot  understand  it;  you  are  a  man, 
and  you  cannot  appreciate  it;  but  how 
can  I  keep  my  self-respect  with  two 
husbands  living  ?*  I  know  that  many 
good  women  in  your  country  think 
differently;  but  to  be  in  that  position 
— perhaps  the  mother  of  children, 
with  the  father  of  one  in  Toronto  and 
the  father  of  another  in  Texas — to  me 
it  is  simply  revolting!" 

"  That  is  a  morbid  sentiment." 

"  It  is  not  a  matter  of  sentiment;  it 
is  a  matter  of  duty." 

"You  speak  of  duty,"  said  West- 
morland impatiently;  "  do  you  know 
what  it  means?  Duty  to  whom  ?  To 
whom  is  it  due?  Is  it  to  this  man  you 
despise,  who  has  disappeared  heaven 
only  knows  where;  oris  it  to  your  own 


THE   WISGS  OF  SIGHT 


25 


little  girl  ?  Has  she  no  rights  in  this 
matter?  I  waive  all  question  of  sen- 
timent; suppose  you  care  nothing  for 
me — " 

"  But  I  do,"  she  said  gently;  '•  that 
is  why  I  discuss  it  at  all";  then — to 
herself  rather  than  to  Westmorland — 
she  murmured: 

"  Oh,  I  wish  he  were  dead!" 

*'  He  will  be  dead  to  us  hereafter. 
I  can  arrange  in  a  few  months  for  your 
divorce  in  Ohio.  We  will  spend  our 
lives  among  strangers,  and  Bertha  will 
grow  up  to  believe  that  I  am  her  father. 
Why,  in  time  you  and  I  will  come  our- 
selves to  believe  it." 

'*  Will  you  try  to  find  out  something 
about  him  ?"  she  asked.  "  I  have  not 
heard  of  him  for  more  than  three  years 
now;  he  may  be  dead  for  all  that  1 
know  to  the  contrary." 

"Those  fellows  never  die,"  he  re- 
joined, "but  they  can  be  eliminated. 
Come,  give  me  your  promise  now — for 
Bertha's  sake — before  we  to-tVi  T-^- 
ronto." 

"You  know,'  she  continiieu,  stiii 
following  aloud  her  own  train  of 
thought,  "  that  his  name  was  not  Mc- 
Clain.  We  were  married  under  that 
name,  and  of  course  1  retain  it;  but  he 
wrote  to  me  after  the  biby  was  born 
that  his  name  was  Allen  Dow." 

"  Oh,  well,  that  doesn't  make  any 
difference." 

"Do  you  know  that  I  fancied  once 
that  I  saw  him  in  Marietta  ?" 

"  You  saw  me  there  at  any  rate,'' 
Westmorland  responded.  He  was  not 
especially  interested  in  reminiscences 
about  McClain. 

"  But  1  didn't,"  she  went  on,  ignor- 
ing his  interruption;  "  at  that  very 
time,  as  I  afterwards  learned,  he  was 
somewhere  in  Texas.  He  wrote  to 
me  from  Belle  Centre  a  dozen  times 
for  money." 

"  And  you  sent  him  repeatedly  ?" 

"  What  else  could  I  do?" 

"And  he  went  there  by  the  name 
of  Allen   Dow  ?" 

"  Yes,  I  know  that  he  did." 

"  A  small,  delicate  man,  was  he  not, 
with  a  mania  for  cigarettes  ?" 

"  He  certainly  smoked   cigarettes." 


Westmorland  was  trembling  with 
suppressed  agitation. 

"  And  he  had  the  morphine  habit,  1 
reckon?" 

"  Yes,  but  how  did  you  know  it  ?" 

"And  a  long  scar,  here,  on  his 
neck  ?" 

"  Yes,  yes  !  Did  you  ever  see  him  ? 
Oh,  is  he  really  alive?  If  he  is  living 
I  cannot  do  as  you  wish;  I  cannot,  1 
cannot  !" 

They  had  risen;  for  a  moment  West- 
morland stood  rigid.  Then,  suddenly, 
he  drew  her,  resisting,  to  him. 

"Grace  dear,"  he  whispered,  "do 
not  be  startled;  it  happened  three 
years  ago.  Your  life  is  your  own 
again.     The  man  is  dead  !" 

Staring  and  pale,  she  confronted  him. 

"  He  is  dead  ?" 

"Yes,  the  man  is  dead  !" 

"  Thank  Ciod."  Then — as  she  slow- 
ly sank  to  her  seat: 

"Why  did  you  not  tell  nu-  this 
sooner?" 

"The  nain«,"  he  explained.  "1  knew 
him  as  Dow;  you  were  Mrs.  McClain. 
He  died  before  I  came  to  Toronto.' 

"  But  are  you  sure  ?" 

He  answered — even  in  her  excite- 
ment  she  noticed — with  constraint: 

"  I  tell  you  that  he  is  dead." 

"  No,  no,"  she  protested,  "you  are 
telling  me  this  to  overcome  me  to  your 
way  of  thinking." 

"  I  am  telling  you,  upon  my  hon- 
our, what  I  know  to  be  true." 

"  How  do  you  know  it  ?" 

"  I  saw  him  die." 

"  When?  Where?  Why  were  you 
with  him  ?" 

"It  was  during  the  boom  at  Belle 
Centre;  you  must  take  my  word  for  the 
fact." 

"  But  why  do  you  tell  me  so  little  ? 
I  am  shivering  with  apprehension. 

"Oh,  it  isn't  true,"  she  sobbed;  "it 
can't  be  true  !" 

"Grace,"  he  said  slowly,  "don't 
say  that  again  !  I  tell  you  the  man  is 
dead." 

"  And  you  saw  him  die  ?" 

••  No,  I  didn't  precisely  see  him  die, 
but  I  know,  only  too  well,  that  he  is 
dead." 


26 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


"  I  don't  believe  it !" 
"But  I  know  it." 

"No,  no,"  she  sobbed  hysterically; 
"I  will  not  believe  it;  he  is  not  dead  !" 
'*  I  know  that  he  is  !" 
"  How  do  you  know  it  ?" 
"  I  killed  him  !" 

Grace  covered  her  face  with  her 
hands — she  was  rocking  herself  back 
and  forth  in  tearless  agony.  West- 
morland stood  helplessly  by  until 
Bertha  —  suddenly  awakened  —  cried 
shrilly.  He  had  taken  the  child  in  his 
arms  when  Grace  snatched  her  away 
so  violently  that  he  flushed  with  mor- 
tification. 

"  I  will  not  hurt  your  child  !"  he 
said  bitterly. 

"It  is  his  child,"  she  cried;  "can't 
you  see  what  it  means  ?  You  must 
never  touch  her  again  !  She  must 
forget  you  before  she  learns  the  truth." 

"  But  there  is  nothing  for  her  to 
learn.  Of  course,  I  said  that  I  killed 
him;  that  was  a  violent  way  to  put  it. 
The  fact  is — " 

"  It  was  accidental,  of  course  ?" 

"  Yes,  I  never  intended  to  hurt, 
much  less  to  kill  him — " 

"Oh,  I  knew  it  was  accidental  I 
Still  it  is  dreadful.  How  did  it  hap- 
pen ?     Tell  me  about  it  !" 

"  His  skull  was  fractured;  the  doc- 
tors should  have  trepanned  it." 

"  But  how  did  it  happen  ?" 

"  He  fell  in  the  lobby  of  the  Grand 
Hotel;  he  was  crazed  with  morphine  at 
the  time." 

"And  you?" 

"Grace,  he  was  trying  to  kill  me; 
he  had  a  knife  in  his  hand  when  I 
struck  him," 

"  Then  it  was  you  that  killed  him  ?" 

"  That  is  one  way  to  put  it  !" 

"  It  is  the  way  that  you  put  it." 

"  At  any  rate,"  said  Westmorland, 
''he's  dead." 

His  tone  grated  upon  her,  and  she 
answered  bitterly: 

"  Yes,  he  is  dead,  and  the  man  who 
has  taken  his  life  proposes  to  take  his 
place — -to  marry  his  wife  and  adopt  his 
child." 

"  No,"  said  Westmorland,  "I  do  not 


propose  to  take  his  place.  He  had  no 
place.  He  long  ago  forfeited  his  wife 
and  his  child;  he  cared  for  neither,  and 
I   love  them  both." 

"  Don't,  don't,"  she  pleaded;  "that 
is  over  now." 

Again  the  child  stirred  uneasily; 
other  passengers  entered  the  car,  and 
Westmorland  said  gently: 

"  I  will  leave  you  for  a  while;  you 
are  nervous  and  worn  out." 

He  was  himself  overwrought  with 
the  scene  and  the  memories  it  recalled. 

At  Toronto  he  assisted  Grace  and 
the  child  to  the  carriage  that  awaited 
them. 

"  I  will  remain  here,"  he  said.  "Tell 
Sir  William  that  I  am  at  the  King 
Edward." 

"It  is  no  use  for  you  to  remain," 
she  answered;  "I  have  thought  it  all 
over;  I  cannot  see  you  again." 

"You  will  feel  differently  in  the 
morning." 

"  No,  my  mind  is  made  up." 

"  Good  night,"  he  said  gently. 

But  she  answered: 

"Good-bye  !" 

II 

Sir  William  Carter  had  narrowly 
missed  being  the  most  eminent  man  in 
Canada.  But  a  strain  of  whimsicality 
— it  hardly  rose  to  eccentricity — pre- 
vented his  success  in  public  life;  and 
speculations  had  diminished  his  large 
estate.  He  was  now  over  sixty,  living 
a  retired  life;  whimsical  as  ever — even 
amused  by  the  comparative  failure  of 
his  own  career! 

His  children  lived  abroad,  and  he 
had  settled  upon  them  generously  when 
he  married  the  present  Lady  Carter. 
She  was  the  sister  of  Grace  McClain, 
and  Sir  William's  house  had  been 
Grace's  refuge  and  home  for  years. 

He  was  sincerely  attached  to  West- 
morland, whom  he  long  had  known, 
and  greeted  him  warmly  when  the  lat- 
ter called  upon  the  following  day: 

"  Come  to  my  den,"  he  said;  "  I  am 
not  certain  that  the  ladies  are  visible." 

"  How  are  they?" 

The  Knight  smiled  at  him  quizzically: 


THE  WINGS  OF  NIGHT 


^7 


"Vou  must  be  quite  an  entertain- 
ing companion,"  he  said.  *'  Grace 
arrived  home  in  hysterics.  ' 

*'  Have  you  seen  her  this  morning?" 

"  No,  but  I  learned,  in  a  general 
way,  what  you  told  her." 

'•  Her  husband  is  dead.  ' 

"  Yes,  and  she  fancies  that  you 
killed  him." 

"  I  suppose  that  she  doesi" 

'•  What  on  earth  did  vou  say  to 
her  ?" 

"  I  was  excited;  we  were  both  of  us 
a  trifle  hysterical — " 

"  I  should  think  so,"  Sir  William 
assented. 

**  Of  course,"  Westmorland  pro- 
ceeded, "  I  did  knock  him  down,  and 
it  is  possible  that  he  fractured  his  skull 
when  he  struck  the  floor;  the  doctors 
said  that  he  did." 

*'  Did  you  know  at  the  time  that  he 
was  injured?" 

**  No,  he  was  around  for  a  week  or 
two  after  that;  then  he  sickened  and 
died.  His  skull  was  fractured;  they 
should  have  trepanned  it." 

•*  It  is  too  bad,"  said  Sir  William; 
"  oi  course,  we  all  know  you're  fond 
of  her.  Though  why" — he  went  on  in 
his  quizzical  way — "you  should  have 
lingered  here  for  three  years  to  fall  in 
love  with  a  woman  you  believed  to  be 
married,  is  beyond  my  comprehension 
—  I  can't  understand  it." 

"  I  met  her  in  Marietta.  I  know 
now  that  she  must  have  visited  there 
shortly  after  her  husband  deserted 
her.  I  was  employed  by  your  friend, 
Judge  Stewart,  in  buying  and  selling 
derricks,  bits,  cable — what  we  used  to 
call  junk — in  the  oil  fields  of  West  Vir- 
ginia. I  went  to  his  house  in  Mari- 
etta on  business  one  evening;  you  re- 
member the  broad  verandah  ?" 

"  1  recall  it." 

'•  They  were  sitting  there  that  sum- 
mer night,  overlooking  the  river.  I 
was  presented  to  '  Miss  McClain,'  as  I 
understood  it.  I  met  her  once  again. 
I  learned  that  she  was  Lady  Carter's 
sister  and  that  she  lived  in  Toronto. 
-And  I  knew,  in  my  heart,  that  she  was 
the  one  only  woman  in  the  world  for 
me! 


•'  A  few  months  later  came  the  boom 
at  Belle  Centre.  I  was  one  of  the  first 
on  the  ground.  I  made  money  fast, 
and  as  soon  as  I  could  I  turned  every- 
thing into  cash.  Then  I  came  to  To- 
ronto to  find  Grace  McClain,  and,  if 
possible,  to  make  her  my  wife.  I 
found  her  at  your  house;  she  was  a 
wife  and  a  mother! 

•'  I  should  have  returned  to  Texas, 
but  on  one  pretext  or  another  I  lin- 
gered. You  and  I  were  old  friends; 
there  are  no  limits.  Sir  William,  to 
your  hospitality;  and  in  time  we  four 
— Lady  Carter,  Grace,  you  and  I  — 
were  almost  daily  together.  1  knew 
her  story;  in  time  she  knew  my  secret. 
I  urged  her  to  seek  a  divorce;  this  she 
refused  to  do.  Then  I  promised  to  go 
abroad. 

*'  Yesterday  morning  I  was  at  the 
Windsor,  and  I  saw  Grace  and  Bertha 
pass  in  a  sleigh,  on  their  way  to  the 
station.  I  came  with  them  from  Mon- 
treal to  Toronto.      You  know  the  rest." 

Sir  William  answered  with  unusual 
gravity: 

**  It's  awkward,"  he  said,  "  there  is 
no  doubt  about  that.  We  Canadians 
are  so  very  old-fashioned!  I  really 
think  you  had  best  go  abroad.  Time 
is  the  great  healer,  you  know." 

*•  But  I  must  see  Grace,  Sir  Wil- 
liam, before  I  c^^^:  1  wish  to  see  her 
now." 

*•  I  will  tell  Lady  Carter,"  replied  the 
Knight,  ruefully;  but  at  the  door  he 
turned,  with  his  whimsical  smile,  to 
say:  "  Westmorland,  you  certainly 
have  made  a  mess  of  it!" 

In  a  few  moments  he  returned  to 
say  that  Grace  was  in  the  drawing- 
room,  and  to  shake  hands,  with 
mock  solemnity,  as  Westmorland  left 
him. 

She  was  dressed  in  black;  her  face 
seemed  exceedingly  pale,  but  her  man- 
ner was  quiet  and  self-contained: 

•*  You  have  come  to  say  good-bye?" 
she  asked  him. 

"  No,  not  precisely,  although  I  will 
go  away  for  awhile  if  you  wish  it.  I 
was  excited  yesterday — brutal,  abrupt. 
I  hope  you  will  forget  and  forgive 
what  I  said  to  you!" 


28 


TH?:  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


"  I  think  I  understand,"  said  Grace. 
"You  were  not  to  blame.  *  Self  de- 
fence,' do  the  lawyers  call  it?" 

'*  Yes,"  said  Westmorland  eagerly, 
"  that  was  it." 

"  I  am  not  passing  judgment  upon 
you;  your  own  conscience  can  judge 
you  the  best." 

"Certainly,"  assented  Westmor- 
land, "my  conscience  is  entirely 
clear." 

"You  feel  no  remorse  about  it?" 

"  No,  indeed,  I  do  not." 

"Then  it  will  not  make  you  mor- 
bid; I  am  glad  that  you  feel  as  you  do 
about  it." 

"And  you  will  make  me  happy?" 
he  asked,  almost  triumphantly. 

"Make  you  happy?"  .Again  his 
tone  grated  upon  her. 

"Yes,  after  all,  Grace,  this  hap- 
pened three  years  ago.  Let  us  be 
quietly  married  and  go  abroad.  On 
Bertha's  account,  the  sooner  the  bet- 
ter 1  " 

"  Have  you  no  respect  for  me  what- 
ever ?  "  she  demanded  ;  "do  you 
think  that  I  have  no  respect  for  my 
child  ?  " 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  During  the  past  twenty-four 
hours,"  she  answered,  suddenly  flush- 
ing, as  she  rose  to  her  feet  and  con- 
fronted him,  "  many  things  have  been 
revealed  to  me  :  Years  ago  you  saw 
me — scarcely  met  me — at  Marietta  ; 
you  fancied  me  ;  you  determined,  even 
then,  to  marry  me  !  Within  a  few- 
months,  flushed  with  your  sudden  rise 
to  fortune,  you  came  here,  to  find  me 
another's  wife.  Does  that  deter  you  ? 
No  !  Ypu  essay  to  snap  that  sacred 
tie  as  though  it  were  a  rotten  thread  ; 
you  treat  as  beneath  contempt  the  bar- 
riers placed  by  God  and  man  between 
us.  When  my  conscience  will  not 
bend  to  your  imperious  will — when  you 
know  that  I  cannot  be  you  wife,  with 
this  man  alive — you  then  declare,  with- 
out regret,  that  you  killed  him  ;  and, 
in  the  same  breath,  you  command 
me — his  wife — and  our  child,  to  be 
your  accomplices,  to  crown  your  happi- 
ness!" 


Westmorland  looked  at  her  wonder- 
ingly  : 

"  Do  you  think  you  are  just  ?  " 
But  now  her  excitement  had  passed, 
and,   seating  herself   beside   him,   she 
answered  gently  : 

"  No,  I  am  unjust.  I  let  you  speak 
and  I  let  myself  think  about  you  as  a 
lover,  when  I  still  believed  myself  to 
be  married.  Of  course  from  your 
standpoint  I  was  foolish  and  wrong  to 
hesitate  about  a  divorce. 

"As  to  this  other,"  she  continued, 
"  you  were  frank  and  brave  to  tell  me 
the  truth  ;  you  might  have  evaded  it. 
But  of  course  this  puts  an  end  to  our 
friendship — to  our  acquaintance  indeed, 
for  Bertha  must  entirely  forget  you. 
As  to  our  — " 

"Marriage?"  Westmorland  sug- 
gested, for  she  seemed  to  hesitate. 

"Yes,  as  to  marriage — let  us  be 
frank  ;  as  to  marriage,  that  is  impos- 
sible !  " 

"Why?" 

"  Can't  you  see  ?  " 

"No." 

"  Then  I  can't  explain  it  to  you  ;  but 
the  situation  is  simply  impossible." 

"  And  what  am  I  to  do  ?  " 

"  You  must,  once  and  for  all,  say 
good-bye." 

"  I  don't  see  why  that  is  necessary." 

"  But  1  do.  There  are  many  rea- 
sons that  I  think  you  will  understand. 
In  the  first  place  our  thoughts  and 
traditions  are  so  different  that  every 
year  you  would  seem  to  me  more  reck- 
less and  irreverent,  and  I  would  seem  * 
to  you  more  foolish  and  fanatical. 
Were  there  no  other  obstacle,  this 
alone  should  make  us  hesitate  before 
linking  our  lives  together." 

"  I  will  take  chances  on  that,"  said 
Westmorland  smilingly. 

"But  that  is  not  all!  In  time 
Bertha  must  know  that  her  father  is 
dead,  and  how  he  died.  Even  though 
I  deceived  her,  she  would  learn  some 
day.  Then  think  of  what  lies  before 
us  !  The  innocence  of  youth  is  cruel 
in  its  judgments.  How  can  we  live 
with  this  child,  year  after  year,  and 
this  secret  between  us  ? 


THE  WINGS  OF  NIGHT 


29 


**  Again,  you  and  I  know  the  truth  ; 
but  how  is  the  world  to  know  it  ? 
How  will  our  enemies  tell  it  ?  You 
fall  in  love  with  a  married  woman  ; 
you  travel  thousands  of  miles  to  find 
her  husband  and  kill  him  ;  then  you 
return  and  marry  the  widow  !  How 
would  this  story  sound  to  Bertha,  if 
she  heard  it,  ten  years  from  now  ? 
No,  the  world  is  cruel,  but  its  laws  are 
wise  ;  we  must  avoid  the  appearance 
of  evil." 

*'  We  must  do  what  is  right." 

"And  we  must  not  appear  to  do 
wrong." 

•*  But  for  the  present,"  Westmorland 
plead,  "  why  should  our  friendship 
be  interrupted  ?" 

•*  I  can  answer  that  easily.  When  a 
man  and  a  woman  are  placed  as  we 
are  —  when  they  have  shown  their 
hearts  to  each  other — they  will  talk  of 
themselves  whenever  they  meet.  If 
you  continue  to  come  here  as  usual, 
will  you  and  I  discuss  Mr.  Chamber- 
lain, the  Alaskan  Award,  the  state  of 
the  weather  ?  Ah,  no,  it  will  be  always 
the  same,  and  the  end  is  certain  : 
either  I  yield  to  your  importunity,  or 
we  part  in  a  quarrel  forever." 

"  We  are  not  quarrelling  now  !  " 

"No,"  she  said,  rising  and  extend- 
ing her  hand  frankly  towards  him, 
"  we  part  in  peace." 

'*  And  your  mind  is  made  up  ?  " 

••  Irrevocably." 

*•  It  is  verv  hard ;  it  is  very  un- 
just ! " 

"  It  is  fate." 

Her  tone  and  manner  more  than  her 
words  appalled  him.  To  his  mind  they 
spelled  the  end. 

He  held  her  hand  between  his  own  ; 
she  could  see  that  he  was  deeply 
moved  ;  that  his  strong  feeling  made 
him,  for  the  time,  inarticulate.  Then 
he  turned  and  left  her.  She  heard  him 
slowly  pass  through  the  wide  hall  to 
the  street ;  then,  as  the  door  closed 
behind  him,  she  hastened  to  the  win- 
dow and,  herself  unobserved,  gazed 
after  him.  The  wind  was  blowing  a 
gale,  and  the  snow  was  drifting  heavily; 
the  elements  seemed  to  accentuate  her 
cruelty. 


*'  Good-bye  I  "  she  sobbed  as  he 
disappeared  from  her  sight;  "Good- 
bye, good-bye  !  " 

III 

The  winter  dragged  slowly  by  for 
Grace  McClain.  To  a  few  friends  she 
confided  the  fact  of  her  husband's 
death;  they  frankly  congratulated  her 
upon  her  release.  She  told  them  that 
he  had  died  some  time  before;  that 
only  her  sister,  Sir  \yilliam  and  Mr. 
Westmorland  knew  of  it;  that  she 
hesitated  to  formally  announce  her 
widowhood.  More  than  one  of  her 
confidants  discreetly  inquired  about 
Mr.  Westmorland;  she  could  only  an- 
swer that  he  had  gone  abroad. 

But  as  time  passed  and  no  word 
came  from  Westmorland,  her  interest 
revived  and  quickened  in  the  happen- 
ings of  her  daily  life.  The  spring  was 
one  of  peculiar  charm,  and  Grace  eag- 
erly breathed  its  buoyant  beauty.  So- 
cial ambitions,  long  dormant,  now 
stirred  again.  She  reappeared,  with 
some  of  her  old-time  zest,  at  the  golf 
links  and  upon  the  bay.  She  had  per- 
suaded herself  that  she  had  ceased  to 
remember,  when — frightened,  elated, 
half-pleased  and  only  half-surprised — 
she  received  an  offer  of  marriage  that 
brought  her  sharply  face  to  face  with 
the  problem  of  her  life.  It  was  from 
her  dead  father's  dearest  friend — her 
own  life-long  friend  and  guardian. 
Although  he  spoke  with  modest,  manly 
depreciation  of  his  own  deserts,  she 
knew  full  well  that  to  be  his  wife  was 
to  gratify  a  very  high  ambition.  It 
meant  to  her  social  supremacy  among 
those  she  had  always  known,  free- 
dom from  care,  a  life  of  luxurious 
comfort  brightened  by  congenial  ac- 
tivity. 

By  birth,  tradition,  and  through 
hard  experience  she  had  come  to  set 
no  little  store  upon  the  well-ordered 
conventionalities  of  life;  and  marriage 
to  Westmorland — she  faced  the  ques- 
tion bravely  now — "  would  it  be  quite 
respectable  ?"  Did  it  not  stand  for 
the  suppression  of  truth,  the  keeping 
of  secrets  ?  She  was  innocent,  but  the 
pitiless  question  confronted  her:  could 


30 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


she  marry  the  man  who  had  caused  her 
husband's  death  ? 

There  remained  the  possibility  of 
perpetual  widowhood.  Her  own  pov- 
erty gave  Grace  no  concern;  Sir  Wil- 
liam was  her  brother,  her  unfailing 
friend;  and  her  sister,  after  all,  was 
kind  and  aflFectionate;  but  the  child? 
And  now  she  blushed  guiltily  at  the 
unbidden  thought  of  Westmorland's 
love  for  them  both;  in  her  heart  she 
knew  that  Bertha  would  be  his  heir. 
She  tried  to  make  herself  believe  that 
she  might  never  see  him  again,  that  he 
might  marry  abroad,  and  in  time  for- 
get them,  but  her  heart  laughed  her 
to  scorn.  Hurt  and  unhappy  he  might 
be,  but  she  never  doubted  his  lifelong 
love  and  solicitude.  That  was  the  one 
thing  in  this  world  that  was  fixed  and 
unchangeable  !  With  a  great  throb  of 
love  and  gratitude  she  turned  to  his 
photograph  that  for  years  had  gazed 
upon  her.  *'  Faithfully  yours,"  he  had 
written — yes,  he  would  be  faithful 
unto  death.  But  was  she  true  to 
the  love  God  had  placed  in  her  heart? 
Had  she  the  right  to  marry  one  man 
while  she  still  loved  another?  Was  it 
just  to  either  ?  Would  it  not  in  the 
end  be  cruel  to  both? 

But  now  the  fresh,  bright  air  invited 
her.  She  walked  abroad,  to  find  that 
gossip  was  busy  with  her  future.  Al- 
ready she  perceived  that  deference  ad- 
vanced to  greet  her  coming  greatness. 
She  was  too  womanly  not  to  recall 
more  than  one  slight  put  upon  her  dur 
ing  the  dark  days  now  happily  ended, 
and  too  human  not  to  thrill  with  the 
pride  of  power  within  her  grasp.  Lady 
Carter  noticed  at  dinner  her  strange 
exaltation,  and  Sir  William,  with  the 
whimsical  smile  that  covered  alike  his 
pleasure  and  his  pain,  murmured  si- 
lently over  his  port: 

"  Westmorland,  you  certainly  have 
made  a  mess  of  it!" 

That  evening  she  said  to  her  suitor: 
**  Do  you  think  that  under  any  cir- 
cumstances a  woman  should  marry  the 
man  who  has  killed  her  husband — say 
in  a  duel,  or  in  'self-defence,'  do  you 
call  it  ?" 


"They  are  not  quite  the  same  thing," 
he  commented.  *'  But,  tell  me,  was 
she  the  cause  of  the  quarrel  ?" 

"  No,  this  man  did  not  know  for 
years  after  that  it  was  her  husband. 
The  husband  was  insane  at  the  time, 
you  know,  and  attacked  this  gentle- 
man and  tried  to  kill  him,  and  in  the 
scuffle  he  hurt  his  head." 

'*  Fractured  his  skull,  perhaps  ?" 

"  Yes,  they  should  have  trepanned 
it."  She  did  not  know  precisely  what 
this  meant,  but  she  recalled  Westmor- 
land saying  it. 

"  He  was  about  the  streets,"  she 
continued,  "for  a  long  time  after- 
wards, then  he  sickened  and  died;  you 
see  they  didn't  trepan  it." 

"Oh,  a  hundred  things  may  have 
caused  his  death.  It  is  only  guess- 
work, you  know." 

"  But  would  you  advise  her  to  marry 
him?" 

"  I  couldn't  advise  a  lady  I  never 
knew  to  marry  a  man  I  never  saw." 

"That  is  true;  but  just  supposing — " 

"Oh,  a  hypothetical  case  ?  Well,  I 
am  not  on  the  bench,  you  know;  but  I 
must  say  that  I  don't  like  the  story.  It 
is — well — a  little  too  complicated.  1 
assume  that  she  has  no  children  ?" 

"  Yes,  there  is  one  child." 

"  Of  course  that  increases  the  diffi- 
culty. I  could  not  advise  a  marriage 
like  this,  yet  the  circumstances  are  so 
peculiar  that  I  would  not  absolutely 
condemn  it." 

"Thank  you,"  she  .said,  "you  are 
always  kind  and  just." 

"  Do  not  quote  me  to  your  friend," 
he  said. 

"  There  is  no  need  of  it.  I  see  my- 
self that  it  would  never  do;  the  mar- 
riage will  not  take  place." 


During  the  night  Lady  Carter  heard 
Grace  moving  about  her  room,  and 
stepped  to  the  hall  to  find  her  dressed 
for  the  street. 

"Grace,"  she  exclaimed,  "whereon 
earth  are  you  going  ?" 

"  I  am  going  to  Mr.  Westmor- 
land." 

"  Where  is  he  ?" 


THE  WINGS  OF  NIGHT 


3» 


"  He  is  here,"  she  said  simply;  **he 
wishes  to  see  me." 

"  But,  Grace,"  she  remonstrated, 
"he  is  not  here." 

'*  I  must  go  to  him,"  she  answered; 
"he  has  sent  for  me." 

"  You  are  dreaming,  Grace;  it  is 
two  o'clock  in  the  morning  !" 

The  girl  stood  blinking,  like  one  who 
is  dazed  and  blinded  by  a  sudden  glare 
of  light. 

"  I  know  that  he  called  me,"  she  re- 
peated, in  a  patient,  colourless  way. 

Lady  Carter,  now  thoroughly  fright- 
ened, shook  her  violently,  as  though  to 
awaken  her. 

"  You  are  dreaming,"  she  insisted: 
"you  must  remain  in  your  room  ♦''' 
morning.  ' 

"Very  well,  she  submitted;  **i  ui 
not  %o  to  bed  !" 

They  prevailed  upon  her,  at  last,  to 
remove  her  hat  and  boots,  but  other- 
wise she  was  dressed,  as  for  a  journey, 
when  she  lay  down  to  rest.  Soon  after 
she  sank  into  a  deep  slumber — almost 
a  stupor — that  lasted  for  hours.  As 
she  descended  to  breakfast  Sir  William 
stood  at  the  foot  of  the  stair,  and  she 
gazed  at  him  expectantly: 

"  I    have   bad   new- 
Westmorland." 

"  I  knew  it,"  she  gasped;  "he  is 
dead  !" 

"  He  may  be,"  said  Sir  William 
sadly,  "but  he  is  very  ill,  to  say  the 
least  of  it.  He  is  at  the  hospital  in 
Cincinnati." 

"  In  Cincinnati?" 

"  Yes,  he  has  been  there,  it  seems. 
He  had  an  ugly  accident.  There  has 
been  one  operation  and,  by  this  time, 
I  fear,  another;  the  second  operation 
may  kill  him.  If  he  rallies  from  that, 
he  may  recover  !" 

"  I  must  go  to  him,"  she  said;  "he 
summoned  me  last  night." 
"  You  wish  to  go?" 
"  I  must  go,   Sir  William  !" 
"  Vou  know  what  it  means?" 
"  It  means  that  I  am  going  to  nurse 
him;  it  means  that  I  am  going  to  marry 
him  !•' 

"  It  may  mean,  my  dear,  that  you 
are  going  to  bury  him." 


"You  don't  mean  that !"  she  sob- 
bed. "  Oh,  Sir  William,  you  don't 
mean  that  ?" 

"  No,  there  is  still  a  chance  !  I  will 
take  you  to  Cincinnati.  ' 

' '  How  did  you  learn  this  ?"  she  ask- 
ed him  presently." 

"  At  the  hospital  they  found  a  packet 
of  papers  with  an  indorsement  upon 
them  that,  in  case  of  death  or  other 
sudden  emergency,  they  should  be  de- 
livered to  me  as  soon  as  possible.  The 
surgeon  in  charge  forwarded  the  pa- 
pers to  me  and  also  a  history  of  the  case. 
I  telegraphed  him  this  morning;  we 
should  have  an  answer  soon." 

Grace  prepared  for  her  journey — 
finding  a  certain  relief  in  the  mechaoi- 
il  labour;  then  she  crept  to  the  draw- 
ing-room window  from  which  she  had 
last  seen  Westmorland,  and  tearfully 
watched  for  the  message  of  life  or 
death.      Here  Sir  William  found  her. 

"They  telephoned  the  message," 
she  heard  him  sav  ;  "  he  is  living 
still ! " 

They  found  that  there  was  no  train 
until  evening,  and  Grace  roamed  weari- 
ly through  the  house  waiting  for  the 
long  dead  day  to  wear  itself  out. 

Meeting  Sir  William,  she  asked  him: 

"  What  were  the  papers  he  sent 
you  ?' ' 

"  One  was  his  will;  it  is,  of  course, 
still  unopened.  The  other  related  to 
the  death  of  your  husband;  there  can 
be  no  question  but  that  he  died  from  an 
overdose  of  morphine.  It  is  true  there 
was  a  slight  fracture  of  the  skull — how 
old  or  how  recent  nobody  knows,  but 
there  had  been  a  scuffle  between  him 
and  Westmorland,  and  the  latter  as- 
sumed that  he  might  be  responsible. 
The  doctors,  nurses  and  undertakers 
were  only  too  glad  to  agree  with  him; 
he  was  plucked  of  hundreds  of  dollars. 
Yet,  strange  to  say,  the  doctor  was 
honest  enough,  at  the  time,  to  make  a 
true  return  to  the  government;  the 
official  record  shows  that  'Allan  Dow' 
died  from  an  'overdose  of  morphine 
administered  by  mistake.'  " 

"  It  doesn't  matter  now,"  she  said 
wearily;  "let  us  ^o  to  the  station;  I 
would  rather  wait  there  than  here." 


32 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


At  Buffalo  a  telegram  awaited  Sir 
William.  The  operation  had  been  suc- 
cessfully performed,  but  Westmorland 
had  not  rallied  satisfactorily,  and  the 
surgeons  feared  the  worst.  Then  fol- 
lowed a  weary  vigil;  tenderly  they 
spoke  of  their  brave,  true  friend  as  of 
one  already  dead  ! 

He  was  unconscious  when  they  found 
him,  but  his  marvellous  vitality  forbade 
despair.  Slowly  there  came  reviving 
strength  and  consciousness.  For  days 
Grace  had  been  with  him  constantly; 
he  had  not  known  her,  but  during  her 
absence  one  afternoon  he  recognised 
Sir  William,  and  the  excitement  told 
so  heavily  against  him  that  the  sur- 
geons forbade  her  to  return.  In  a  few 
days,  however,  they  said  to  her: 


"  You  may  see  him,  Mrs.  McClain, 
if  you  insist  upon  it.  Your  presence 
may  relieve  this  nervous  depression 
and  rouse  him  to  some  effort  to  get 
well;  he  is  making  no  effort  now." 

"  I  insist  upon  it,"  she  answered; 
•'I  understand." 

At  the  hour  appointed  he  was  sleep- 
ing. She  slipped  to  his  bedside  and 
knelt  beside  him.  In  the  dim,  half- 
darkened  room  he  awakened  slowly. 
She  bowed  over  his  pale  face,  and  as 
his  wasted  fingers  touched  her  hair 
she  softly  kissed  his  lips: 

"  I  knew  you  would  come,"  he 
whispered.      "My  sweetheart  !" 

And  she  answered: 

"  Your  wife  !" 


LAMOU  R 

BY    INGLIS    MORSE 

T  WAS  a  longing  unto  thee, 
My  heart's  true  goal — 

An  arrow  that  thou  drewest 
To  thy  soul. 

And  I,  thy  woman's  way  loved  best, 

Which  was  for  me 
A  hint  that  did  suggest 

Eternity.  * 


sr.    LOUS— FESTIV  \ 


AT  NIGHT 


CANADA  AT  ST.   LOUIS 


By  THE  EDITOR 


HE  relation  between  a  mar- 
ket and  a  fair  is  often  lost 
sight  of  by  the  public.  A 
market  is  a  meeting  to- 
gether of  buyers  and  sel- 
lers   in   some    place   at   an    appointed 


time.  Every  fair  is,  historically  speak- 
ing, a  market,  but  it  is  more  than  that. 
A  fair  possesses  features  which  are 
not  seen  in  an  ordinary  market  and  is 
of  a  more  miscellaneous  character;  it 
extends  over  a   longer   period   and  is 


ST.    LOLIS — THE   VIEW   FROM   FESTIVAL  HALL 

In  the  central  distance  is  the  Louisiana  Purchase  Monument.     On  either  side  are  two  of 
the  eig^ht  large  Exhibit  Palaces 


34 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


FESTIVAL   HALL,    WITH    ITS   STAIRWAYS,    LAWNS   AND   STATUARY 


held  at  greater  intervals.  The  name 
is  probably  derived  from  the  Latin 
fena  (a  holiday),  and  was  originally  a 
festival  of  some  kind  at  which  traders 
took  advantage  of  the  opportunity  to 
display  their  wares. 

When  commerce  was  in  its  early 
stages,  for  example  in  England  just 
after  the  Norman  conquest,  the  an- 
nual fairs  were  occasions  on  which 
distant  or  foreign  traders  visited  the 
various  towns  to  display  wares  not 
usually  procurable  there.  The  great 
fair  at  Stourbridge,  near  Cambridge, 
was  held  annually  in  September,  and 
lasted  for  three  weeks.  The  space 
allotted  to  this  fair,  about  half  a  square 
mile,  was  divided  into  streets  which 
were  named  after  the  various  nations 
or  trades,  and  in  each  of  these  streets 
some  special  trade  was  carried  on,  the 
principal  being  in  foreign  spices  and 
fruits,  ironmongery,  fish,  metal  goods, 
cloth,  wool,  leather  and  latterly  books. 
Traders  came  from  such  distant  points 


as  Genoa,  Venice,  the  Levant  and 
Spain. 

The  continental  fairs  were  one  of 
the  prominent  characteristics  of  medi- 
aeval mercantile  life.  Their  origin  is 
ascribed  to  the  great  religious  festivals 
which  attracted  large  numbers  of  peo- 
ple and  gave  opportunity  for  trade. 
The  French  mediaeval  fairs  had  their 
fullest  development  in  the  twelfth  cen- 
tury. These  were  mainly  in  the  Cham- 
pagne country.  Later  the  Lyons  fair 
was  the  most  important  in  France. 
Leipzig  fair  was  prominent  in  the 
eighteenth  century,  when  Germany  be- 
gan to  be  of  commercial  importance. 

The  Russian  Annual  Fair  at  Nijni 
Novgorod  is  perhaps  the  most  famous 
in  the  world.  Here  for  two  months  in 
the  year  two  hundred  thousand  people, 
collected  from  the  ends  of  the  earth, 
meet  to  trade.  There  are  sixteen 
thousand  shops  at  this  point  which  are 
used  only  during  fair  time.  There  is 
the  Persian  Quarter,  the  China  Quar- 


CANADA  AT  ST.  LOUIS 


35 


ST.    LOflS— THE  CANADIAN   BUILDING,    ERECTED  AT   A   COST   OK  $30,000 


ter,  the  Khivan  Quarter, 
the  Tartar  Quarter,  and  so 
on.  As  soon  as  railways 
pierce  through  the  great 
district  of  which  Nijni 
Novgorod  is  the  centre,  the 
fair  will  probably  change  in 
character,  but  for  hundreds 
of  years  it  has  been  a  great 
meeting  place  for  European 
and  Asiatic  traders. 

The  modern  type  of 
World's  Fair  came  in  with 
the  London  Exhibition  of 
185 1,  where  British  North 
America  was  represented  by 
195  exhibitors.  In  the  New 
York  Exhibition  of  1853 
Canada  had  152  exhibitors. 
At  Paris  in  1855,  Canada 
obtained  88  prizes  divided 
among  321  exhibitors.  At 
the  London  Exhibition  of 
1862,  Canada  secured  100 
medals    and  50  honourable 


ST.    LOCIS  — BRAZILS   BUILDING 

This  and   other  national   and   state   building's  show   an 

architecture   much   superior    to   that  of  the 

Canadian   building. 


36 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


ST.    LOUIS- 


-THE   MAGNIFICENT   TROPHY   WHICH    REPRESENTED  CANADA   IN   THE   PALACE  OF 
AGRICULTURE.      THE   CENTRAL  PART   IS   65   FEET   HIGH 


mentions.  Then  there  were  the  Dub- 
lin Exhibition  of  1865,  the  Paris  Fair 
of  1867,  the  Philadelphia  Exhibition  of 
1876,  the  Sydney  (N.S.W.)  Exhibition 
of  1879,  the  London  Fisheries  Exhibi- 
tion of  1883,  the  Antwerp  Universal 
Exhibition  of  1885,  the  Colonial  and 
Indian  Exhibition  at  London  in  1886, 
the  Jamaica  Exhibition  of  1891,  and 
the  World's  Fair  at  Chicago  in  1893. 
At  all  these  there  were  Canadian  ex- 
hibits and  Canadian  prize  winners. 
Since  Confederation  the  Dominion 
Government  has   spent  over  a  million 


dollars  in  making  Canadian  products 
known  to  the  world  through  the  medi- 
um of  exhibits  at  various  foreign  fairs. 
The  World's  Fair  at  St.  Louis  this 
year  is  a  magnificent  accomplishment. 
Three  years  of  steady  preparation  were 
not  quite  enough  to  execute  the  ambi- 
tious plans  of  the  promoters,  and  when 
the  gates  swung  open  in  May,  there 
was  general  incompleteness.  The 
cold  wet  weather  had  interfered  with 
the  progress  of  road-making  and  land- 
scape gardening,  while  incompetence 
or  indifference  had  retarded  the  com- 


CANADA  AT  ST.  LOUIS 


37 


pleting  of  the 
individual  and 
national  dis- 
plays. Practic- 
ally only  the 
Japanese  and 
United  States 
Governm  ent 
displays  were 
complete. 

So  far  as 
the  buildings 
were  concern- 
ed, the  fair 
managers  had 
practi  ca  1 1  y 
complete  ti 
their  labours, 
and  only  a 
few  finishing 
touches  were 
still  required. 
These  build- 
ings are  nu- 
merous, large, 
varied  and 
splendidly 
conceived. 
Scattered  over 
a  broader  area 
than  was  ever 
covered  by 
a  previous 
World's  Fair, 
they  yet  pre- 
sent one  com- 
posite picture 
of  marvellous 
beauty  with 
the   towering 

Louisiana  Purchase  Monument  as  a 
centrepiece,  and  the  Festival  Hall  as 
the  central  view-point.  On  either  side 
of  the  monument  are  four  great  exhibit 
palaces,  covering  from  eight  to  fifteen 
acres  each.  The  wide  spaces  between 
them  are  embellished  by  landscape  and 
water  effects.  The  Cascade  Gardens 
connects  them  with  Festival  Hall  and 
the  supporting  Palace  of  Fine  Arts. 
On  the  outskirts  of  this  central  group 
are  the  various  National,  State  and 
other  buildings. 

By  July  the   grounds  were  in  good 
order,   the  exhibits    all    in    place,  the 


LOl  l^   -THE    MAPLb    M  v.AK    A.M)    .-.VKlt'    i)li.FLAV,     WITH    SMALL 
BL^SH    AND    CAMP    ENCLOSED 


"Pike"  noisy  and  merry,  and  the 
streets  of  this  Magic  City  were  daily 
thronged  with  unwearied  searchers  for 
that  which  would  delight  the  eye  and 
please  the  mind.  The  World's  Fair 
at  St.  Louis  is  a  success,  in  so  far  as 
a  World's  Fair  can  be  a  success.  If  it 
has  not  emphasised  for  the  world  a 
new  idea  of  supreme  industrial  im- 
portance, it  has  at  least  indicated  the 
progress  of  western  civilisation  which 
has  passed  in  a  short  half-century  from 
the  banks  of  the  Thames  to  the  west- 
ern bank  of  the  Mississippi.  Fifty 
years  ago  the  Prince  Consort  watched 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


CANADA  S   DISPLAY   OF    KISH    AND   GAME — GIVEN    A   GRAND    I'RIZE 


the  magnificent  Crystal  Palace  rise  to 
show  the  world  something"  new  in  ex- 
hibitions; to-day  the  people  of  St. 
Louis   are   imitating  his   initiative  for 


the    special    benefit   of    the    Western 
States  and  the   general   benefit   of  the 
industrial  and  intellectual  worlds. 
On  this  occasion  Canada  has  again 


CANADA  S   EXCELLENT   DISPLAY   OF   FRUIT,   EQUALLED   ONLY   BY   CALIFORNIA 


CANADA  AT  ST.  LOUIS 


39 


been  re.pre- 
sentedjthough 
perhaps  not 
so  adequately 
as  mi<j;^ht  have 
been  expected. 
There  are  no 
exhibits  ot 
Canadian 
manufactures 
or  dairy  pro- 
ducts because 
the  Govern- 
ment felt  that 
there  was 
little  gain  in 
displaying 
goods  which 
could  not  be 
sold  in  the 
UnitedStates. 
That  this  was 
a  somewhat 
narrow  view 
for  the  au- 
thorities to 
take,  will  be 
generally  ad- 
mitted. Yet 
there  is  some- 
thing  to  be 
said  in  their 
defence.  They 
decided,  wisely 
or  unwisely,  to 
show  only 
such  products 

as  might  be  in  demand  in  that  country, 
and  to  keep  the  Canadian  building  a 
sort  of  immigration  bureau.  With  this 
end  in  view  the  agricultural  and  min- 
ing products  were  emphasised,  because 
these  were  the  products  likely  to  in- 
terest prospective  settlers  and  invest- 
ors. The  Canadian  building  was  kept 
small  and  unassuming,  and  was  plain- 
ly furnished  so  that  the  farmers  would 
not  fear  to  intrude. 

The  picture  of  the  Canadian  build- 
ing shown  herewith  proves  that  little 
money  was  wasted  on  architectural 
design.  Some  disgusted  Canadians 
have  labelled  it  "The  Wedding-Cake 
House."  The  interior  is  as  plain  as 
the  exterior,  and  is  decorated  with  a 


THE   SMITH   PREMIER   TYPEWRITER   EXHIBIT 


few  deer  heads  and  some  paintings  of 
rural  scenes  and  cattle.  The  agricul- 
tural trophy  in  the  Palace  of  Agricul- 
ture is  in  better  taste.  It  is  a  replica 
in  outline  of  the  Parliamentary  Library 
at  Ottawa,  and  is  quite  imposing. 
The  pillars  and  displays  which  sur- 
round it  rather  detracted  from  its 
striking  appearance,  but  served  a  de- 
cided utilitarian  purpose  in  providing 
space  for  mottoes,  samples  of  food- 
stuffs, and  other  exhibition  features. 
The  display  was  in  favour  with  the 
authorities  and  was  granted  one  of 
the  grand  awards  for  displays  of  this 
character. 

The  following  list  will  give  an  idea 
of  the    classes    of   goods   which  were 


40 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


used  as  accessories  to  this  agricultural 
trophy: 

Flour — 

Archie  Campbell,  Toronto,  Ont, 
Lake  Huron  and  Manitoba  Co.,  Goderich. 
Lake  of  the  Woods  Milling  Co.,  Keewatin 
Ogilvie  Milling  Co.,  Montreal,  P.Q. 
Cereal  Foods — 

The  Robert  Greig  Co.,  Toronto,  Ont. 
P.  Mcintosh  &  Son,  Toronto,  Ont. 
The  Tillson  Company,  Tillsonburg,  Ont. 
The  PVontenac  Cereal  Co.,  Kingston,  Ont. 
Eby,  Blain  Co.,  Toronto,  Ont. 
W.  T,  Benson,  Montreal,  P.O. 


Biscuits  - 

Christie,  Brown  &  Co.,  Toronto,  Ont. 
Cheese — 

A.  F.  MacLaren  Imperial  Cheese  Co.,  To- 
ronto, Ont. 

Ingersoll  Packing  Co.,  Ingersoll,  Ont. 

Canadian  Club  Whisky — 

Hiram  Walker  &  Sons,  Walkerville,  Ont. 

Ales  and  Porter — 

Dawes  &  Co.,  Lachine,  Que. 
John  Labatt,  London,  Ont. 
Toronto  Brewing  and  Malting  Co.,  Toronto. 
The  Carling    Brewing    and     Malting    Co., 
London,  Ont. 


THE   WALTER    BAKER   EXHIBIT 


Baking  Powder — 

E.  W.  Gillett  Co.,  Toronto,  Ont. 
Cream  Tartar  — 

E.  W.  Gillett  Co.,  Toronto,  Ont. 
Starch — 

Imperial  Starch  Co.,  Prescott,  Ont. 

Edwardsburg  Starch  Co.,  Cardinal,  Ont. 
Condensed  Milk  and  Cream — 

Truro  Condensed  Milk  Co.,  Truro,  N.S. 
Corn  Syrup — 

Edwardsburg  Starch  Co.,  Cardinal,  Ont. 
Canned  Fruits 

Eby,  Blain  Co.,  Toronto,  Ont. 
Canned  Vegetables — 

Eby,  Blain  Co.,  Toronto,  Ont. 


Honey — 

General  display. 
Tobacco — 

General  display. 
Hops — 

General  display. 

Maple  Sugar  and  Syrup — 

General  display.   (Sugar  samples  were  reg- 
ularly distributed.) 

Cereals,  Grains  and  Grasses — 

Contributed  by  over  3,000  farmers  through- 
out the  Dominion. 

The  fish  and  game  exhibit  includes 
many  stuffed  animals  and  a  rustic  arch 


CANADA  AT  ST.  LOUIS 


41 


built  of  Cana- 
dian woods. 
This  is  a  uni- 
que design, 
but  the  whole 
effect  was 
somewhat  of 
the  "dead" 
variety.  The 
differing 
character  o  f 
the  particular 
woods  is  not 
impressed  up- 
on the  specta- 
tor. The  en- 
quiring public 
is  not  enlight- 
ened by  pla- 
cards or  read- 
ing matter  of 
an  adequate 
character. 
The  exhibit  is 
a  splendid 
one,  but  i  t 
lacks  interpre 
tation. 

The  mineral 
exhibit  is  im- 
posing, but 
hardly  more 
effective  than 
the  game  and 

wood  exhibit.  It  is  provided  with 
labels  such  as  one  would  find  in  a 
technical  museum.  The  learned  min- 
eralogist or  the  experienced  miner 
would  be  at  home  with  the  samples 
and  labels,  but  the  inexperienced  pub- 
lic would  find  little  information  of  a 
popular  or  educational  character.  The 
material  is  there,  but  as  with  the  pre- 
vious exhibit,  the  accessories  which 
translate  the  features  of  an  exhibit  for 
the  man  who  has  but  a  few  minutes  to 
spare  for  such  a  display  are  almost 
absent.  This  is  in  strong  contrast 
with  the  Japanese  mineral  exhibit, 
which  occupied  about  one  quarter  the 
space.  This  display  is  walled,  and 
around  the  walls  are  hung  pictures  of 
the  various  mining  camps  and  plants, 
with  both  interior  and  exterior  views; 
on  a  counter  on  one  side  was  a  model 


EXHIBIT    Ol     1\>STI'I»  CBREAI.   CO. 


of  a  mining  camp,  showing  huts, 
shafts,  drifts  and  machinery.  The 
samples  of  ore  were  not  numerous, 
but  were  quite  sufficient  for  the  pur- 
pose. The  mineral  samples  in  the 
U.S.  Government  Building  were  also 
well  displayed,  each  piece  of  ore  being 
fully  explained  by  a  large  card  on 
which  there  was  printed  a  popular  de- 
scription. As  the  United  States  pur- 
chases thirty-two  of  our  thirty-five 
million  dollars'  worth  of  mineral  ex- 
ports each  year,  this  display  should 
have  received  the  best  of  attention. 
The  authorities  apparently  intended  to 
make  it  impressive,  but  a  smaller  dis- 
play and  fuller  information  would  have 
been  even  more  effective. 

In  fruits,  Canada  makes  an  excel- 
lent display,  much  to  the  surprise  of 
that   part  of   the  great   public    which 


42 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


still  believes  that  Canada  is  a  country 
of  eternal  frost  and  snow.  There  were 
ninety-four  varieties  of  fresh  apples 
and  fifty  varieties  of  preserved  speci- 
mens. Plums,  pears,  grapes,  cherries 
and  peaches  are  in  profusion,  to  add 
to  the  wonder  of  the  sight-seer.  The 
whole  horticultural  display  is  excellent 
and  has  been  declared  by  competent 
critics  to  surpass  any  similar  display 
at  St.  Louis  with  the  exception  of  that 
from  California. 

Yet  it  is  surprising  to  find  such 
an  excellent  display  of  fruit.  The 
authorities  did  not  display  creamery 
products  or  manufactured  goods  be- 
cause there  was  no  market  for  these  in 
the  United  States.  It  is  well  known 
that  there  is  no  market — in  the  same 
sense — for  Canadian  fruit  in  that  coun- 
try, yet  an  excellent  display  was  made. 
There  is  an  inconsistency  here  which 
a  stern-minded  critic  might  declare  re- 
quired explanation. 

The  Canadian  art  display  was  badly 
managed.  The  furnishings  and  decor- 
ations are  tawdry  and  far  from  attract- 
ive. There  is  no  one  in  attendance  to 
explain  the  pictures,  there  are  no 
seats  to  invite  the  wanderer  to  linger. 
There  are  no  pictures  of  our  great 
waterfalls,  of  our  capacious  harbours, 
our  beautiful  forests  or  our  more  im- 
posing public  buildings.  There  is  a 
collection  of  canvasses  such  as  might 
have  been  painted  by  third-rate  French 
or  British  artists.  These  pictures  are 
good  in  their  way,  and  would  have 
been  attractive  in  a  local  exhibition  in 
Toronto  or  Montreal;  as  a  representa- 
tive collection  to  show  strangers 
wherein  Canadian  art,  landscape, 
nature  and  civilisation  differs  from 
those  of  other  countries,  it  is  a  flat 
failure.  The  art  collection  of  Norway 
and  Sweden,  for  example,  gave  one  a 
distinct  idea  of  the  landscape  and  the 
civilisation  of  those  countries;  and  so 
it  was  with  the  others.  The  French 
Art  display  was  one-half  industrial,  in 
keeping  with  the  idea  that  a  Fair  is  a 
promoter  of  buying  and  selling. 

Pulp  woods  and  pulp  are  exhibited 


along  with  some  British  Columbia 
woods  in  a  small  building  near  the  Ca- 
nadian Pavilion.  There  are  also  some 
samples  of  hard  woods  from  the  other 
provinces.  There  was  some  delay  in 
placing  this  exhibit,  but  it  is  worthy  of 
the  occasion.  The  only  point  in  con- 
nection with  it  is  that  there  is  a  likeli- 
hood of  its  being  overlooked.  Had  it 
been  placed  in  a  gallery  connected  with 
the  main  building  this  danger  might 
have  been  avoided. 

On  the  whole,  it  must  be  admitted 
that  Canada  has  been  better  repre- 
sented at  St.  Louis  than  at  Chicago  or 
Buffalo,  so  far  as  interior  displays  are 
concerned.  In  horses,  cattle  and 
sheep  there  has  been  a  falling  off,  due 
partly  to  the  Government's  lack  of  en- 
thusiasm, and  partly  to  the  cost  of 
transportation  and  difference  in  cli- 
mate. Mr.  Beith  was  the  only  exhibi- 
tor of  horses,  but  his  seven  splendid 
Hackneys  excelled  all  competitors  and 
brought  him  $1,900  in  prizes.  Mr.  J. 
C.  Clark,  of  Ottawa,  was  the  only 
cattle  exhibitor,  but  his  herd  of  six- 
teen Ayrshires  brought  him  even  more 
prize-money  than  was  secured  by  Mr. 
Beith.  The  Canadian  entries  of  sheep 
and  swine  were  more  numerous,  and 
were  fairly  well  rewarded. 

Canada  has  done  well,  although  she 
might  have  done  better.  The  author- 
ities have  learned  some  things  which 
will  no  doubt  be  of  advantage  to  them 
in  future  displays.  The  Japanese  ex- 
hibitors have  taught  all  teachable  na- 
tions at  this  fair;  their  displays  were 
completed  in  time,  were  well  scattered 
throughout  the  various  buildings,  were 
excellently  arranged,  and  were  in 
charge  of  shrewd  and  intelligent  per- 
sons. Japan  has  begun  to  pay  back 
her  debt  to  Western  civilisation. 

Canada's  exhibits  at  the  fairs  of  the 
world  should  be  in  charge  of  agricul- 
tural, mining  and  horticultural  experts. 
Politicians  who  are  merely  "good 
fellows,"  and  whose  knowledge  is 
bounded  by  the  uses  of  a  spiral  stair- 
case, are  not  the  persons  best  fitted  to 
manage  the  advertising  of  a  nation. 


OEPARTL'RE   OK     I  UK 


■  KENAUIER   Gl'ARDS   FROM   TKAl-AUiAR  ^i^VASiB,   FOR    I  HI     iKIMBA, 
FRBRTARV    22,    1 854 


THE  GRENADIER   GUARDS  AND 
THEIR   BAND 

By  y.  HENRY 


I  S  Majesty's  Grenadier 
Guards,  whose  band  is 
now  touring  Canada,  need 
little  introduction  to  Ca- 
nadians. The  second  bat- 
talion came  to  Canada  in  the  Rebellion 
period,  and  were  stationed  at  Quebec 
from  1839  to  1842.  A  battalion  came 
here  also  at  the  time  of  the  "Trent  " 
affair.  Yet  at  this  time  a  brief  re- 
view of  their  history  may  be  interest- 
ing. 

The  regiment  dates  back  to  1656, 
when  an  English  corps  known  as 
"The  Royal  Regiment  of  Guards  " 
was  one  of  six  infantry  regiments 
formed  from  among  the  adherents  of 
Charles  II  during  his  exile  in  Flanders. 
Their  first  engagement  was  the  so- 
called    battle   of  the  •'  Dunes  "    near 


Dunkirk,  on  the  French  coast.  On 
the  restoration  of  Charles,  four  years 
later,  the  regiment  was  re-organised 
underColonel  John  Russell  in  England, 
though  the  original  troops  were  still 
embodied  under  Lord  Wentworth  at 
Dunkirk.  When  this  fort  was  sold  the 
two  regiments  were  united  in  England. 
They  received  special  colours  and  the 
famous  series  of  twenty-four  Royal 
badges,  one  for  each  company.  The 
regiment  was  handsomely  dressed  in 
scarlet  coats  faced  with  blue,  with 
blue  breeches  and  stockings,  and 
plumed  hats.  The  present  "bear- 
skin "  headgear  was  not  adopted  by 
the  whole  regiment  until  181 5,  the 
pattern  being  taken  from  Napoleon's 
Imperial  Guards.  The  grenade,  which 
had  previously  been  worn  on  the  head- 


44 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


COL.    HORACE    RICARDO,    M.V.O.,    COMM/ 
GRENADIER    GUARDS 


gear,  was  placed  also  on  the  collar  of 
officers  and  men. 

Their  series  of  victories  is  long",  and 
cannot  be  given  in  any  detail.  They 
served  at  Blenheim  in  1704,  and,  in 
fact,  in  Marlborough's  whole  cam- 
paign from  1702  to  171 1.  It  is  inter- 
esting to  note  that  this  great  general 
began  his  career  as  an  ensign  in  the 
Guards,  and  that  he  was  their  colonel 
at  Blenheim. 

During  the  Seven  Years'  War  the 
Guards  served  under  BHgh,  on  the 
coast  of  France,  in  1758,  and  under 
the  Marquis  of  Granby  in  Germany 
in  1760-3.  The  regiment  contributed 
its  quota  to  the  combined  battalion 
of  Guards  which  served  in  America 
throughout  the  War  of  Independence. 
It  served  through  the  Napoleonic 
wars,    was   with   Sir  John    Moore    in 


1808,  and  especially  dis- 
tinguished itself  at  Quatr^ 
Bras  and  Waterloo.  At 
the  latter  battle  the  second 
and  third  battalions  formed 
the  First  Brigade  of  Guards 
under  Sir  Peregrine  Mait- 
land.  Their  position  was 
on  the  ridge  above  Hugue- 
mont,  whence  in  line  four 
deep  they  swept  down  in 
their  famous  charge  at  the 
close  of  the  day.  Five 
thousand  men  of  the  Old 
Imperial  Guard  under 
Marshal  Ney  were  seen 
advancing  with  shouts  of 
•'Vive  I'Empereur!"  They 
came  steadily  on ;  but  on 
reaching  the  crest  the 
Cluards  poured  out  a 
pitiless  volley,  and  whether 
it  was  "Up,  Guards,  and 
at  'em!"  or  "  Now,  Mait- 
land,  now's  your  time!" 
vociferated  by  the  Iron 
Duke,  Lord  Saltoun  cried 
out,  "  Now's  the  time, 
my  boys!"  and  the  Guards 
sprang  forward, driving  the 
enemy  over  a  hedge  of  dead 
and  dying  down  the  hill.  In 
^^^^  that  conflict  and  at  Quatrd 

Bras  the  First  Guards 
lost  181  killed,  including 
7  officers,  and  had  853  wounded,  mak- 
ing a  total  of  1,034.  They  had  earned 
undying  fame.  "  Guards,"  exclaimed 
Wellington,  "you  shall  be  rewarded 
for  this;"  and  when  encamped  at  Paris  in 
the  Bois  de  Boulogne  at  the  close  of 
the  French  war,  as  a  distinguished 
honour  they  became  "  The  First  or 
Grenadier  Regiment  of  Foot  Guards." 
The  colours  which  floated  over  the 
devoted  third  battalion  of  the  ist  Foot 
Guards  at  Waterloo  are  still  preserved 
at  Wellington  Barracks,  where  Cana- 
dians visiting  the  metropolis  can  now 
see  them  in  the  Royal  Military  Chapel. 
In  connection  with  the  colours  of  the 
regiment,  it  may  be  noted  that  when 
six  more  companies  were  added  at  the 
outbreak  of  the  Crimean  War,  as  many 
additional  new  badges  were  created. 
On  the  decease  of  the  Duke  of  Wei- 


THE  GRENADIER  GUARDS  AXD  THEIR  BAND 


45 


ling^ton,  Sept.  14th, 
1852,  the  supreme 
command  of  the  reg^i- 
ment  was  conferred  on 
Prince  Albert,  Queen 
Victoria's  consort, 
who  held  it  till  his 
death  in  1861,  when 
it  passed  to  H.R.H. 
the  late  lamented 
Duke  of  Cambridge. 
In  the  Crimea,  French 
and  British  troops 
fought  side  by  side, 
and  a  lasting  tribute 
was  paid  by  the  former 
to  the  honour  and 
bravery  of  their  island 
allies.  It  is  recorded 
that  one  day  Marshal 
Canrobert  asked  Lord 
Raglan  to  send  the 
Grenadiers  to  the  front 
with  his  own  men,  and 
when  the  British  Gen- 
eral, feeling  obliged 
to  refuse,  owing  to 
the  fatigue  ol  the 
Guards,  who  had  just 
come  oflf  the  field,  the 
Marshal  replied:  "My 
Zouaves  will  do  better 
if  they  see  the  Bear- 
skins with  them  " — 
referring  to  the  tall  fur 
head-dress  peculiar  to 
the  Guards.  On  an- 
other occasion,  a 
French  officer,  notic- 
ing their  valour,  ex- 
claimed: "Now  I  un- 
derstand Waterloo!" 
The  subsequent 
services  of  this  famous 
regiment  include  the 
Egyptian  Campaign  of 
1882,  where  the  2nd 
battalion  formed  part 
of  H.R.H.  the  Duke 
of  Connaught's  brig- 
ade; the  Nile  Cam- 
paign, where  they 
toiled  on  the  River 
and  fought  in  the  des- 
ert;   and    the    Suakin 


46 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


expedition  of  1885,  when  the  3rd  Bat- 
talion was  in  the  field. 

The  I  St  Battalion  were  at  Gibraltar 
in  1897,  and  the  following  year  pro- 
ceeded to  Egypt  to  join  the  forces  un- 
der Sir  Herbert  Kitchener  on  his  march 
to  Khartoum.  They  were  present  at 
the  battle  of  Omdurman,  immediately 
returning  to  London,  where  they  met 
with  a  splendid  reception.  With  their 
meritorious  services  in  the  recent 
South  African  war  every  reader  is 
familiar.  In  this,  as  in  all  their  cam- 
paigns, they  added  to  the  regimental 
high  traditions. 


of  their  existence  are  in  a  special  man- 
ner representative  of  the  traditional 
British  Grenadiers,  "old  in  glory  and 
honour  they  have  yet  the  vigour  of 
youth." 

THE    BAND 

By  the  special  favour  of  His  Majesty 
the  King  and  the  permission  of  the 
Colonel  Commanding,  the  band  of  the 
Grenadier  Guards  is  visiting  the  Unit- 
ed States  and  Canada  this  season. 
This  is  not  the  first  visit  paid  by  the 
Grenadier  Guards  Band  to  the  United 
States.      It  was  present   at  the  Inter- 


THE   GUARDS   BAND   AT   ST.    JAMES  S    PALACE 


Their  present  Colonel-in-Chief  is 
His  Majesty  King  Edward  VII,  the 
Colonel  being  the  King's  brother, 
P.M.,  H.R.H.  the  Duke  of  Con- 
naught,  and  the  Lieut. -Col.  Command- 
ing, Horace  Ricardo,  M.V.O.  The 
headquarters  of  the  regiment  is  in 
London  at  Wellington  Barracks,  bat- 
talions being  stationed  at  times  also  at 
Chelsea  Barracks,  the  Tower,  Wind- 
sor, and,  during  the  summer,  at  Alder- 
shot  and  Pirbright.  As  in  the  days  of 
Charles  II  they  are  always  present, 
ready  for  the  personal  service  of  the 
Sovereign  and  to  bear  their  part  in  all 
the  great  functions  of  the  State.  The 
Grenadier  Guards  in  the  third  century 


national  Peace  and  Musical  Festival  in 
Boston  in  June,  1892,  and  received  a 
magnificent  ovation.  The  London 
press  at  the  time  published  special 
despatches  of  its  performances,  when 
Dan  Godfrey,  the  bandmaster,  con- 
ducted. 

The  band  may  claim  origin  from  the 
earliest  body  of  musicians  connected 
with  the  British  Army.  On  January 
3rd,  1685,  King  Charles  II,  only  a  few 
days  before  his  death,  signed  a  war- 
rant authorising  the  establishment  of 
twelve  hautbois  players  to  be  attached 
to  his  "  Royal  Regiment  of  Foot- 
Guards,"  and  this  doubtless  is  the  first 
official  record  of    a    band  other  than 


THE  GRENADIER  GUARDS  AND  THEIR  BAND 


47 


drums  and  fifes  in  His  Majesty's 
forces.  It  is  a  favourite  tradition  in 
the  Grenadier  Guards  that  Handel 
composed    the  well-known  "March    in 


'*  slow  march  " 
it  has  been  used 
the  time  of  this 
The    celebrated 


Scipio  "  as    a   parade 
for  the  regiment,  and 
for  this  purpose  since 
eminent    composer, 
"quick  march,"   "The  British  Grena- 
diers," dates  back  to  the  days  of  good 
Queen  Anne,  in  the 
early     eighteenth 
century.     The  band 
was    sent    to   Paris 
in   1815  to  join  the 
regiment  during  its 
sojou  r  n     in     the 
French  capital,  but 
it  does  not  seem  to 
have    attained    any 
particularly     high 
grade    of     musical 
excellence    until 
some    years    later. 
Under   the   late 
Lieut.  Dan  Godfrey, 
who    was    its    con- 
ductor   from    July, 
1856,     to    Septem- 
ber, 1896,  the  band 
achieved  a   reputa- 
tion   second    to 
none. 

The  present  con- 
ductor, Mr.  Albert 
Williams,  Mus. 
Bac.  Oxon.,  ha^ 
wielded  the  baton 
since  1896,  and 
during  his  leader- 
ship has  spared  no 
effort  to  keep  his 
band  well  abreast 
of  the  musical  ad- 
vance so  characteristic  of  these  times. 

The  concerts  given  by  the  band  of 
the  Grenadier  Guards  are  a  very  prom- 
inent feature  in  the  outdoor  life  of 
the  metropolis.  One  of  the  leading 
features  at  Earl's  Court  Exhibition,  the 
great  summer  attraction  at  London, 
and  visited  by  so  many  Canadians,  are 
the  concerts  in  the  beautiful  Western 
Gardens  by  the  Grenadier's  Band. 
During  the  last  few  seasons  the  classi- 
cal programme  given  on  stated  even- 


WILLIAMS,    Mrs.    BAC 
BANDMASTER 


ings  has  drawn  crowds  of  enthusi- 
astic and  delighted  amateurs  to  the 
illuminated  gardens  of  this  very  popu- 
lar resort.  The  band  always  performs 
in  town  on  Sunday  evenings,  in  the 
Royal  Parks — Hyde  Park  and  Green 
Park — with  thousands  for  an  audience 
in  the  open  air,  and  frequently  during 
the  King's  residence  at  Windsor  on 
the  East  Terrace  of  the  Castle. 

No  prominent 
fetes  or  events 
occur  without  this 
band,  and  during 
the  season  short 
tours  are  made  to 
provincial  exhibi- 
tions, seaside  re- 
sorts and  other 
places — all  indicat- 
ing the  very  import- 
ant part  taken  in  na- 
tional events  by  this 
worthy  company  of 
soldier  musicians. 
When  engaged 
for  the  St.  Louis 
Fair  the  authorities 
insisted  upon  the 
band  playing  at  the 
low  pitch  of  A  439, 
and  consequently  a 
whole  new  set  of  in- 
struments had  to  be 
made  specially  for 
this  arrangement. 
.\n  order  was  en- 
trusted to  Messrs. 
Boosey  &  Co.,  Mili- 
tary Band  Instru- 
ment Manufactur- 
ers, Regent  St., 
London,  on  May 
3rd,  and  all  the  new 
instruments  were  delivered  about  July 
8th,  being  us^d  immediately  at  Guard 
Mounting  and  Earl's  Court  Exhibition 
with  complete  satisfaction.  inVT* 

The  personnel  of  the  band,  in  all  60 
musicians,  consists  of  three  sergeants, 
five  corporals  and  fifty-two  bandsmen, 
and  the  bandmaster.  Accompanying 
the  organisation  to  America  is  Captain 
G.  D.  Jeffreys,  3rd  Battalion  Grenadier 
Guards,  son  of  the  Right  Hon.  A.  F. 
Jeffreys,  M.P. 


MR.    ROBERT    MEIGHKN 

PHOTO   BY   NOTMAN 


CANADIAN    CELEBRITIES 

No.  56— MR.    ROBERT    MEIGHEN 


LMOST  every  day  through- 
out the  year  there  appears 
on  the  floor  of  the  Mon- 
treal Board  of  Trade  an 
elderly  man  of  medium 
height  and  well-preserved  frame. 
Should  he  remove  his  hat,  as  he  is  apt 
to  do  on  a  warm  summer's  day,  swing- 
ing it  the  while  in  his  hand,  he  will  un- 
cover hair  as  thick  as  that  of  the 
average  youth,  though  it,  as  well  as 
the  liberal  moustache  and  square- 
trimmed  beard,  is  whitened  with  ad- 
vancing years.  As  he  crosses  the 
room,  mayhap  in  a  preoccupied  manner, 
his  quick  step  and  nervous  action  indi- 
cate a  divorce  between  his  spirit  and 
his  whitened  hair.  Passing  through 
into  the  Corn  Exchange  Room,  he  will 
pause  in  front  of  the  quotation  board 
in  a  somewhat  characteristic  attitude, 


regarding  it  attentively  through  his 
thick-rimmed  spectacles,  and  remark- 
ing upon  it  in  a  partial  undertone, 
and  apparently  impartial  manner.  But 
it  is  only  apparently  impartial,  for,  be- 
ing the  president  of  the  Lake  of  the 
Woods  Milling  Co.,  this  man  is  deeply 
interested  in  the  wheat  market,  the 
dividends  of  the  company  which  he 
directs  largely  depending  upon  it. 

Mr.  Robert  Meighen  is  one  of  the 
best  known  and  best  liked  members  of 
the  Corn  Exchange.  He  is  also  among 
the  foremost  of  Montreal's  successful 
business  men,  successful  not  alone  in 
having  acquired  wealth,  but  in  every- 
thing for  which  the  average  man 
yearns. 

Everything  ?  No,  he  desires  one 
thing  more. 

"  You  are  rich,"  said  he  in  his  some- 


CANADIAN  CELEBRITIES 


49 


what  dramatic  manner  to  an  envious 
and  rather  impecunious  acquaintance, 
lately.  "  I  ask  for  but  one  thing — 
to  be  twenty  years  younger,  I  can- 
not have  youth — you  have  it,  and  in  a 
country  like  Canada  you  ought  to  be 
able  to  get  the  rest." 

His  confidence  in  what  Canada  has 
to  oflFer  to  energetic  young  men  is 
born  of  his  own  experience  and  his 
hopeful  and  fearless  outlook,  which 
outlook,  by  the  way,  is  more  easy  for 
the  successful  than  the  unsuccessful  to 
reach. 

The  tribute  to  youth  came  from  a 
man  not  yet  old.  His  sixty  years  sit 
lightly  on  him.  His  physique  is  as 
sound,  his  step  as  quick  and  elastic, 
and  his  intellect  as  bright  as  they 
could  well  have  been  when  he  came  to 
Montreal  twenty-five  years  ago. 

If  success  in  life  is  evidence  of  a 
man's  ability,  Mr.  Meighen  must  pos- 
sess his  share.  Like  so  many  of  Ca- 
nada's successful  men,  he  has  known 
what  it  is  to  battle  with  adversity.  As 
his  quick  and  vivacious  temperament 
may  to  some  extent  indicate,  he  is  of 
Irish  extraction,  his  birthplace  being 
the  village  of  Dungiven,  near  London- 
derry. His  fatherless  youth  was  spent 
in  the  town  of  Perth,  Ontario,  where 
he  came  with  his  mother  when  very 
young.  He  received  his  elementary 
education  at  the  public  school,  and  at 
the  age  of  fourteen  he  began  his  busi- 
ness career  in  the  firm  of  which  he 
afterwards  became  a  partner.  This 
firm,  that  of  Messrs.  A.  Meighen  & 
Bros.,  founded  fifty-five  years  ago,  is 
still  engaged  in  the  general  trading 
business. 

Those  were  the  days  of  small  things. 
To-day  Mr.  Meighen  is  president  of 
the  Lake  of  the  Woods  Milling  Co., 
Ltd.,  which  he,  with  Mr.  Geo.  Stephen 
(now  Lord  Mount  Stephen)  and  others 
founded.  He  is  also  president  of  the 
New  Brunswick  Railway  Co.,  now  op- 
erated under  lease  by  the  Canadian 
Pacific  Railway.  He  has  lately  been 
elected  to  the  directorate  of  the  Bank 
of  Toronto,  besides  which  he  is  a 
director  of  the  Canada  Northwest  Land 
Co.,    the    Dominion    Transport    Co., 

4 


Ltd.,  and  is  interested  in  many  other 
prominent  Canadian  industrial  institu- 
tions. 

One  of  his  most  delightful  charac- 
teristics— delightful  and  rare — is  his 
lack  of  appreciation  of  the  necessity  of 
a  difference  between  his  treatment  of 
rich  and  poor.  This  indication  of  a 
well-balanced  mind  cannot  be  easily 
counterfeited.  His  success  has  not 
affected  his  balance.  He  has  made 
wealth — wealth  has  not  made  him. 

Had  he  not  been  possessed  of  good 
judgment,  the  Lake  of  the  Woods  Co. 
could  hardly  have  been  such  a  splen- 
did success,  for  the  rise  and  fall  of  the 
wheat  market  largely  determines  its 
dividends  and  a  few  blunders  of  judg- 
ment would  quickly  wipe  them  out. 
He  never  authorises  a  change  in  the 
price  of  flour  until  he  is  satisfied  that 
the  movement  in  the  wheat  market  is 
sufficiently  permanent  to  demand  it. 
In  this  his  conservative  tendencies  are 
shown.  It  is  said  that  no  one  knows 
an  hour  beforehand  when  a  change  is 
going  to  take  place  in  the  company's 
prices.  All  are  treated  alike.  When 
the  time  comes  the  quotations  are 
telegraphed  to  all  the  agents,  and 
thereafter  none  may  vary  from  his 
instructions. 

Although  speculation  is,  to  some  ex- 
tent, constantly  present  in  a  business 
of  this  nature,  Mr.  Meighen  is  not  a 
speculator.  He  never  buys  shares  on 
margin;  having  the  money  to  buy  them 
outright  makes  an  investor  of  him. 
He  foretold  to  a  nicety  the  rise  in 
C.P.  R.  stock  to  par,  though,  general- 
ly speaking,  he  v(\\\  offer  no  opinion  on 
the  course  of  stocks.  The  fact  that  he 
has  invested  in  securities  at  levels 
which  they  have  not  since  approached, 
simply  goes  to  show  that  insiders  and 
moneyed  men  are  by  no  means  infalli- 
ble. 

He  seldom  leaves  the  Board  of 
Trade  without  engaging  in,  at  least, 
one  animated  discussion,  and  here  his 
ready  wit  and  repartee  make  him  a 
dangerous  opponent.  He  has  an  ex- 
cellent memory  which  enables  him  at 
any  moment  to  draw  upon  a  large  fund 
of  quotations  in  verse  and  prose,  as 


so 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


well  as  numerous  funny  stones,  and 
these  he  will  use  with  gusto  against 
his  opponent  wherever  applicable,  and 
perhaps  sometimes  where  they  are  not. 
But  they  all  serve  to  keep  the  discus- 
sion from  becoming  too  bitter,  and  the 
contestants  always  part  on  good  terms. 

As  may  be  inferred,  he  has  many  of 
the  instincts  of  the  orator.  Though 
cool  and  calculating  enough  in  a  busi- 
ness deal,  he  shows  nervousness  when 
about  to  address  an  important  meeting 
and  may  be  seen  walking  quickly  and 
somewhat  aimlessly  back  and  forth  as 
though  endeavouring  to  collect  his 
thoughts.  When  he  takes  the  plat- 
form he  may  even  forget  the  order  of 
his  remarks.  Then  his  dramatic  sense 
will  come  to  his  aid  and  he  seldom 
fails  to  aquit  himself  creditably. 

There  is  also  something  of  the 
statesman  about  Mr.  Meighen.  The 
philosophic  aspect,  however,  does  not 
appeal  to  him  in  the  slightest,  and  he 
cares  nothing  about  economics  from 
that  standpoint.  He  is  an  opportunist 
with  a  considerable  capacity  for  belief 
in  the  rightness  and  patriotism  of  the 
policy  which  benefits  him.  And  he 
furthers  that  cause  in  a  large-minded 
way  which  calls  forth  one's  admira- 
tion. 

He  is  a  strong  protectionist.  In 
politics  he  is  a  life-long  Conservative. 
Although  he  has  been  offered  many 
nominations  for  parliamentary  constit- 
uencies, the  representation  of  which 
his  popularity  would  probably  have 
secured  for  him,  he  has  always  re- 
fused to  stand  for  election.  He  is 
also  an  enthusiastic  advocate  of  Prefer- 
ential Trade  Within  the  Empire,  and 
it  was  he  who  set  on  foot,  and  was  in- 
strumental in  carrying  to  a  successful 
issue,  the  recent  meeting  of  the  Mon- 
treal Board  of  Trade  which  adopted  his 
resolution  upon  that  subject. 

It  is  worthy  of  note,  too,  that  so  far 
back  as  May  i8,  1896,  in  an  interview 
with  the  press  he  advocated  that  Cana- 
da should  give  a  preference  to  the 
Mother  Country,  thus  anticipating  by 
a  year  the  policy  adopted  by  the 
Liberal  Government. 

This  was  not  the  only  occasion  upon 


which  he  showed  an  unusual  ability  to 
sum  up  the  signs  of  the  times  and  right- 
ly interpret  them.  On  Feb.  21,  1902, 
largely  on  the  strength  of  his  assur- 
ances that  England  would  impose  a 
tax  on  grain,  he  succeeded  in  getting 
a  motion  passed  on  the  Board  of  Trade 
asking  that  a  preference  be  given  the 
products  of  the  Colonies  on  the  Brit- 
ish markets  of  the  United  Kingdom. 
The  grain  tax,  as  we  all  know,  was 
afterwards  imposed.  He  also  private- 
ly made  the  prediction  that  the  tax 
would  not  be  removed,  but  that  grain 
from  the  Colonies  would  receive  a 
preference.  He  thus  succeeded  in  pre- 
dicting the  course  Mr.  Chamberlain 
would  have  pursued.  The  British 
voter,  however,  has  yet  to  be  heard 
from  upon  the  subject. 

Mr.  Meighen  is  a  prime  favourite 
with  the  newspaper  men  who  have 
served  their  time  on  the  Board  of 
Trade,  and  they  all  feel  that  had  the 
fates  been  kinder  to  him  they  might 
have  had  in  him  a  colleague  of  whom 
they  would  have  been  proud.  He  fre- 
quently refuses  them  the  information 
they  want;  but  when  he  makes  a  state- 
ment they  know  they  may  rely  upon  it. 

The  president  of  the  Lake  of  the 
Woods  Co.  has  a  great  capacity  for 
hard  work,  and  he  exercises  it  as  inde- 
fatigably  now  as  during  his  early  days. 
It  might  be  said  that  business  has  been 
his  recreation  and  his  play,  for  he  never 
took  any  other. 

His  is  certainly  a  unique  experience. 
He  never  took  any  interest  in  the 
sports  which  usually  occupy  the  atten- 
tion of  young  people.  He  never  at- 
tended games;  he  knows  nothing  about 
hockey,  lacrosse,  baseball;  he  never 
fired  a  gun  or  went  hunting,  and,  oh 
shades  of  the  departed  Isaak  Walton, 
he  never  baited  a  hook  or  sat  on  a 
grassy  bank  all  day  with  his  nerves 
aquiver  at  the  gentlest  tug.  It  is 
doubtful,  even,  if  he  ever  attended  a 
theatre  until  he  had  left  half  a  century 
behind  him.  A  couple  of  years  ago  he 
was  induced  to  leave  business  for  a 
few  months  to  indulge  himself  in  a 
trans-Atlantic  tour.  Occasionally  he 
takes  a  trip  out  to  the  Pacific  Coast;  and 


HIS  BROTHER'S  KEEPER 


5' 


even  then,  doubtless  his  imagination  is 
engaged  in  picturing  the  future  wav- 
ing fields  ot  wheat,  "  all  raised,"  as 
he  is  wont  to  say,  '•  on  the  virgin  soil 
of  our  great  North- West." 

Mr,  Meighen's  private  life  is  very 
quiet.  He  lives  in  probably  the  most 
magnificent  and  costly  house  in  Cana- 
da. He  purchased  it  a  few  years  ago 
from  his  brother-in-law,  Lord  Mount 
Stephen,  whose  youngest  sister  be- 
came his  wife  in  1868.  The  house  it- 
self is  a  model  of  architecture.  The 
splendid  hall  and  staircase,  drawing 
room,  library  and  dining  room  are  pan- 


nelled  in  mahogany  or  satin  wood,  as 
the  case  may  be;  the  walls  are  hung 
with  costly  paintings;  a  splendid  man- 
telpiece is  of  onyx  and  alabaster.  In 
summer  the  beautiful  and  well-cared- 
for  garden,  in  which  are  to  be  found 
many  highly  prized  plants,  is  the  at- 
traction of  Drummond  street. 

Here  lives  the  man  who  commenced 
life  humbly,  who  fought  his  way  up- 
ward and  attained  what  we  term  suc- 
cess, and  whose  only  wish  now  is  that 
he  might  be  twenty  years  younger — 
he  has  everything  else. 

r.   C.  ALLUM. 


HIS  BROTHER'S  KEEPER 

By  M.  A.  RUTHERFORD 


IINCE  his  earliest  childhood 
Arthur  Rilington  had  ador- 
ed his  beautiful  and  stat- 
uesque mother,  and,  in 
return,  his  mother  wor- 
shipped— his  brother  John. 

Like  a  filial  and  super-youthful  Sir 
Galahad,  his  pure  and  fervent  devotion 
had  never  wavered.  There  had  been 
no  interval  in  all  his  short  life  in  which 
he  was  not  her  faithful  knight,  nor  any 
age  at  which  he  was  not  ready  to  do 
her  service — to  challenge  creation  on 
her  behalf.  But  circumstances  had 
been  against  the  expression  of  his  loy- 
alty. No  opportunity  had  been  given 
him — nor,  being  reticent  by  nature, 
did  he  desire  it — of  clothing  his  en- 
thusiasm in  the  adequate  language  of 
his  well-bred  class  and  world. 

To  most  people  the  fact  that  the 
Honourable  Mrs.  Rilington  was  a 
widow  with  but  two  sons  on  whom  to 
lavish  her  affection  made  her  palpable 
favouritism  the  more  inexcusable.  In 
the  first  place,  there  had  been,  from 
Mrs.  Rilington's  point  of  view,  two 
children  where  one  would  have  sufficed 
— for  her  sons  were  twins.  John — 
the  elder  by  a  short  half-hour — was  the 
heir,  therefore  needed  and  welcomed. 
But  for  Arthur  there  was  no  such 
ready-made   role,    nor,    as    far    as  his 


mother  could  see,  any  reason  or  neces- 
sity for  his  existence.  "  Poor  little 
chap!"  his  father  had  dubbed  him  at 
sight,  with  an  instinct  of  prophetic 
commiseration.  A  year  later  Major 
Rilington  was  killed  in  a  railway  acci- 
dent, and  Arthur  was  left  practically 
parentless.  His  mother's  heart  had 
not  holding  capacity  for  the  two  be- 
side herself. 

In  addition  to  the  privileges  con- 
ferred by  primogeniture,  all  the  decor- 
ative graces  of  body  and  mind  that  the 
beautiful  worldly  woman  most  prized 
had  been  centred  on  John;  Arthur,  who 
was  small  and  plain  and  silent,  came  in 
nowhere.  From  his  nursery  days  John 
was  what  is  called  there  a  "taking" 
child;  healthy,  good-looking,  good- 
tempered;  of  such  importance  in  the 
household  that  he  was  always  John — 
never  Johnny  or  Jack  even  to  his  moth- 
er. Consequently  his  bearing  was 
assured,  his  manner  fearless  and  ex- 
pansive. The  lesson  that  took  Arthur 
the  morning  to  learn  John  mastered  in 
an  hour.  Gauged  by  the  same  formal 
standard  the  brothers  "panned  out" 
differently.  Whether  the  ore  they 
yielded  was  of  the  same  value  neither 
mother  nor  tutors  paused  to  inquire. 

Between  themselves  the  boys,  though 
antithetical,     were    not     antagonistic. 


5» 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


John  looked  down  to  Arthur  and  was 
kind,  and  Arthur  accepted  the  position 
and  looked  up  to  John.  His  sole  in- 
heritance from  his  mother  was  an  in- 
clination to  think  that  all  was  for  the 
best  in  this  best  of  possible  worlds. 
That  the  treatment  he  received  in  it 
was  different  from  that  awarded  to  his 
brother  did  not  affect  his  finding. 

In  spite  of  the  great  gulf  fixed  be- 
tween them  by  their  mother's  injudi- 
cious hand,  the  twins  had  taken  each 
progressive  step  in  their  existence  side 
by  side.  They  had  gone  to  Harrow 
together,  and  had  entered  and  had  left 
Sandhurst  at  the  same  time.  That 
John's  name  appeared  near  the  top  of 
the  list  and  his  brother's  not  far  from 
the  other  end  surprised  no  one. 

Only  one  person  among  all  Mrs. 
Rilington's  friends  had  the  temerity  to 
remark  that  it  was  astonishing.  Mrs. 
Rilington's  reply  was  a  self- revelation: 

"  Poor  little  Arthur,  he  hasn't  done 
badly  for  him!  He  must  have  worked 
hard  to  have  got  through  at  all.  We 
didn't  expect  he  would.  I  fancy  John's 
example  influenced  him  more  than  any 
of  us  know.  Oh,  no!  There  is  not 
the  least  fear  that  he  has  overworked 
himself.  He  is  perfectly  strong  and 
never  complains.  He  has  not  given 
me  an  hour's  anxiety  since  he  was 
born." 

The  rash  friend  smiled,  and  agreed 
with  the  last  remark  more  emphatic- 
ally than  was,  perhaps,  quite  polite. 
Arthur,  she  was  certain,  had  never 
cost  his  mother  a  moment's  uneasi- 
ness since  he  was  born. 

So  life — the  easy,  pleasant  life  of 
the  rich — passed  happily  enough  for 
the  young  Rilingtons,  with  plenty  of 
pastime  and  very  few  troubles  until 
the  year  after  they  left  Sandhurst. 
Even  at  this  point  where,  in  the  natur- 
al course  of  events,  there  should  have 
been  the  parting  of  the  ways,  the 
strange  inter-blending  of  their  fates 
interfered. 

They  were  both  gazetted  to  the 
same  regiment.  Then  the  Boer  war 
was  declared,  and  with  the  down 
hardly  formed  on  their  faces,  and  in 
company  with    most  that  was  young 


and  eager  and  strenuous  in  the  Empire, 
John  and  Arthur  Rilington  set  sail  for 
the  front. 

At  John's  express  wish  their  mother 
consented  that  the  farewells  should  be 
said  at  home  instead  of  on  the  crowded 
transport.  Dry-eyed,  haggard  and 
intense,  she  followed  the  young  men's 
movements,  and  hung  on  their  words 
during  the  brief  hours  they  could  pass 
with  her.  When  the  moment  of  part- 
ing came  she  watched  them,  in  ed 
agony  too  great  for  words,  mount  the 
dog-cart  that  was  to  take  them  to  the 
station  and  out  of  her  sight,  perhaps, 
for  ever.  The  reins  were  in  John's 
hands  when  her  white  lips  parted  in  a 
supreme  effort  to  speak.  Then  she 
put  out  her  hand  and  pulled  her  young- 
est son  by  the  arm  till  her  lips  were  at 
his  ear. 

"Take  care  of  John,"  she  whispered. 

*•  Our  bugles  sang  truce,  for  the  night- 
cloud  had  lower'd 

And  the  sentinel  stars  set  their  watch 
in  the  sky." 

To-night  the  lines  recurred  inces- 
santly to  Arthur.  "The  sentinel 
stars,"  he  repeated  to  himself,  linger- 
ing on  the  expression.  He  loved  to 
think  of  them  as  such,  for  he,  too,  was 
on  "sentry  go,"  and  had  been  ever 
since  his  mother's  last  injunction  fell 
on  his  ear. 

The  campaign  had  lasted  eighteen 
months,  and  for  most  of  the  time  the 
regiment  to  which  the  Rilingtons  be- 
longed— the  Light  Defencibles — had 
been  in  the  thick  of  the  fray.  In  the 
Orange  Free  State,  in  the  Transvaal, 
in  Cape  Colony,  they  had  followed  the 
trend  of  the  fighting;  and,  although 
many  a  brave  soldier  had  fallen  out  of 
the  ranks,  never  to  rise  again,  the  Ril- 
ington brothers,  the  Gemini,  as  they 
were  commonly  called,  had  escaped 
unhurt.  Among  their  brother  officers 
it  was  said  that  Arthur's  anxiety  form- 
ed an  invisible  protective  armour  round 
John  that  turned  both  shot  and  shell. 
As  there  was  no  such  shield  for  Ar- 
thur, his  immunity,  they  agreed,  must 
be    ascribed    to    luck.     John    himself 


HIS  BROTHER'S  KEEPER 


53 


neither  noticed  nor  returned  the  solici- 
tude. 

Arthur's  presence  to-night  in  the 
little  camp  under  the  stars  instead  of 
in  the  comparative  comfort  of  the  mess 
tent  at  the  temporary  base,  was  due 
to  this  well-known  tie  between  him 
and  his  brother.  John,  his  senior  in 
the  regiment  as  he  was  in  life  by  a 
single  step,  had  been  sent  out  in  com- 
mand of  a  small  convoy  and  its  escort, 
and  Arthur  had  been  deputed  to  ac- 
company him. 

"  I  dare  say  it  will  be  a  bit  of  a 
treat  for  the  Gemini  to  be  together," 
thought  their  kind-hearted  Colonel. 
*'  I'm  blest  if  I  ever  saw  brothers  such 
chums.  It's  rather  the  other  way 
round  as  a  rule." 

The  march  was  to  be  a  short  one. 
The  little  column  had  only  left  camp 
that  morning,  and  expected  to  reach 
their  destination  the  next  evening. 
The  country  to  be  traversed  had  been 
reported  free  from  the  enemy;  no  dan- 
ger was  anticipated.  For  this  reason, 
and  also  because  we  are  a  sanguine 
nation,  the  escort  was  small,  and  offi- 
cers and  men  proportionately  light- 
hearted. 

Night  had  come,  and  darkness  had 
fallen  on  the  land  as  quickly  as  a  thick 
veil  drawn  by  a  hasty  hand  cover's  a 
scarred  face.  As  far  as  the  eye  could 
see  the  solitary  little  camp  was  the 
only  sign  of  human  life  in  the  vast  and 
boundless  veldt.  The  usual  precau- 
tions against  surprise  had  been  taken, 
the  oxen  had  been  watered,  the  rations 
eaten,  the  last  pipe  smoked,  and  weary 
men  and  patient,  long-suffering  anim- 
als had  lain  down  to  rest.  Only  John 
and  Arthur  seemed  wakeful,  and  ex- 
changed a  few  desultory  remarks  be- 
fore turning  in.  They  spoke  of  their 
mother  and  of  how  lonely  she  must  be, 
and  again  Arthur  remembered  the 
charge  she  had  given  him. 

But  darkness  is  the  best  cover,  and 
under  its  wing  men  who  know  the 
country  and  its  secrets  can  effect 
movements  in  unbroken  silence.  Near- 
er and  nearer  through  the  muffled 
hours  of  night  crept  a  foe  who  slum- 
bered not,  whose  case  was  desperate, 


and  whose  existence  as  a  fighting 
force  depended  on  the  capture  of  that 
convoy.  All  they  craved — food,  cloth- 
ing, weapons,  and,  above  all,  ammun- 
ition— was  in  those  waggons. 

As  the  first  glow  of  dawn  deepened 
and  burned  in  the  eastern  sky,  a  soli- 
tary rifle  shot  rang  out  over  the  plain; 
then  another  and  another,  in  sharp 
succession,  running  into  one  long,  un- 
broken rattle  of  musketry.  Phit-ping, 
phit-ping,  sang  the  hail  of  Mauser 
lead  that  stung  and  blinded  and  bewil- 
dered men  and  animals  alike.  Phit- 
ping  on  every  side,  and  no  shelter  at 
hand. 

The  moment  of  attack  had  been  well 
chosen — when  Kaffir  drivers  were  har- 
nessing the  ox-teams,  and  the  bustle 
of  the  start  was  on  the  unprepared 
men.  Taken  at  a  disadvantage,  and 
for  the  moment  in  hopeless  disorder, 
the  men  seized  their  rifles  and  wildly 
returned  the  enemy's  fire,  wasting 
their  bullets  as  fast  as  they  could  dis- 
charge their  weapons. 

In  the  midst  of  the  excitement  Ar- 
thur found  time  to  think  of  John. 

"  Lie  down, John, "he  said,  "what's 
the  good  of  exposing  yourself  like  that? 
The  men  are  all  right — they  will  b« 
steadier  presently,"  he  urged,  as  a 
bullet  hit  his  brother's  helmet. 

To  his  amazement,  John's  face  turned 
ghastly  pale.  "This  must  be  stopped," 
he  said  brokenly,  like  a  man  shaken 
with  some  terrible  fear.  "  We  must 
surrender.  We  are  outnumbered,  and 
the  ammunition  is  exhausted." 

"Surrender!  No  fear,"  returned  Ar- 
thur reassuringly.  "  There's  plenty  of 
ammunition  in  the  waggon.  I'll  have 
some  served  out." 

He  turned,  and  as  he  did  so  John 
slipped  a  handkerchief  from  his  sleeve, 
fastened  it  on  a  bayonet,  and  held  it  on 
high,  where  the  breeze  caught  and 
rocked  it  gently. 

Almost  at  once  the  firing  from 
the  kopje  slackened,  and  then  ceased, 
and  simultaneously  the  men  heard 
the  bugle  sound  "  cease  fire."  When 
they  looked  round  bewildered,  though 
no  doubt  to  some  extent  relieved, 
they    saw    their  officers   standing    to- 


54 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


g^ether,  and  on  the  ground  between 
them  a  bayonet  with  a  shameful  pen- 
non attached.  Which  of  the  two 
had  raised  it? 

But  nothing  certain  was  known  of 
the  surrender  until,  by  one  of  the 
strange  chances  of  war  that  upset  all 
calculations  and  render  the  foresight  of 
experience  futile,  Colonel  Le  Sage 
heard  from  the  Rilingtons  themselves 
an  account  of  what  had  happened. 

For  reasons  of  their  own,  the  Boers 
had  set  the  two  young  officers  free, 
having  first  relieved  them  of  their  val- 
uables. The  brothers  had  tramped 
back  to  camp,  some  fifty  miles,  in  less 
than  thirty  hours.  They  had  had 
neither  food  nor  water,  and  had  been 
soaked  to  the  skin  in  heavy  rain.  As 
John  was  on  the  point  of  collapse, 
shaking  in  every  limb,  and  almost  un- 
conscious, he  was  ordered  into  hospital 
by  the  doctor,  and  on  Arthur  devolved 
the  task  of  giving  the  details  of  the 
unfortunate  occurrence. 

'  *  Devilish  awkward  for  the  boy,  hav- 
ing such  a  story  to  tell  when  his  own 
brother  was  in  charge,"  thought  the 
Colonel,  as  he  prepared  himself  to  lis- 
ten to  the  disclosure. 

After  the  first  few  sentences  his  face 
hardened.  He  misdoubted  his  own 
senses. 

"  I  fail  to  follow  you,  Mr.  Riling- 
ton,"  he  interrupted,  in  a  tone  that  was 
seldom  heard  by  the  regiment.  "Your 
story  is  incredible.  Am  I  to  under- 
stand that,  without  your  brother's 
knowledge  or  permission,  you  flew  the 
white  flag  after  a  bare  ten  minutes' 
fighting,  and  with  a  total  loss  of  three 
men  wounded  and  two  killed?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"You  were  not  in  any  way  separ- 
ated from  the  ammunition  waggon  ?" 

"  No,  sir,  we  were  not." 

"  Could  you  have  got  at  it — if  you 
had  tried  ?" 

^^ Quite  easily^  sir." 

There  was  a  ring  of  conviction  and 
truth  in  the  last  three  words  that  had 
been  wholly  wanting  in  all  that  had 
gone  before,  and  the  Colonel  recognis- 
ed it.     A  tinge  of  colour  came  into  the 


young  man's  face,  and  for  the  first  time 
since  he  had  come  into  camp  he  looked 
up.  Then,  remembering  the  part  he 
had  set  himself,  his  eyes  resought  the 
ground.  But  the  Colonel  had  seen 
what  he  wanted  in  them,  and  had 
formed  his  own  opinion  therefrom. 

"  Do  you  know  you  are  practically 
accusing  yourself  of  cowardice  ?" 

"Yes,  sir,"  answered  Arthur,  re- 
lapsing into  the  cold  and  guarded  man- 
ner he  had  momentarily  dropped. 

"Well,  Mr.  Rilington,"  resumed 
the  Colonel,  after  a  painful  pause,  "  I 
have  heard  all  you've  got  to  say.  Of 
course,  you  are  aware  that  you  have 
left  me  no  option  in  the  matter.  It 
will  have  to  be  gone  into  when  your 
brother  is  able  to  give  evidence,  which 
at  present  he  is  not.  In  the  meantime 
I  shall  be  obliged  by  your  considering 
the  statement  you  have  just  made  as 
confidential.  But  there's  something 
behind  it  which  I  haven't  got  at.  In 
the  meantime  you  can  return  to  duty." 
As  the  youngster  left  the  tent  Col- 
onel Le  Sage  sighed  deeply.  He  had 
seen  many  a  good  man  fall  in  his 
country's  service,  others  had  lost 
health  or  strength  or  limbs,  and 
others,  again — more  piteous  still — 
their  reputation  and  their  honour. 
Was  his  old  friend's  son  destined  to 
join  their  dishonoured  ranks? 

"  It  is  bound  to  go  hard  with  him  if 
he  sticks  to  that  story,"  he  muttered. 
"  But  there's  something  fishy  some- 
where. I'd  much  sooner  believe  it  of 
that  full-dress-parade  brother  of  his. 
I'll  give  the  boy  a  chance,  anyway. 
He  may  clear  himself  yet. " 

But  Arthur  never  did  clear  himself. 
He  fell  mortally  wounded  in  the  very 
next  skirmish,  and  died  some  hours 
afterwards. 

"  I  am  glad  the  Colonel  understood," 
he  said,  as  he  drew  his  last  flickering 
breath.  And  so  was  Colonel  Le  Sage 
when  he  heard  the  message. 

Of  course  the  court  of  inquiry  never 
was  held.  There  was  no  object  in  stir- 
ring up  muddy  waters.  John  was 
invalided  home  with  rheumatic  fever, 
but  recovered  to  enjov  himself  in  civil 
life. 


A   HISTORY   IN    TWELVE 
INSTALMENTS    ^     ^     ^ 


CHAPTER  XI— FLIGHT  OF  THE  FRENCH  ARMY  FROM  QUEBEC— MURRAY  IN 
COMMAND  OF  THE  BRITISH  GARRISON— AMHERST  CAPTURES  TICON- 
DEROGA  AND  CROWN  POINT— PRIDEAUX  TAKES  NIAGARA— 17£0 


ITH  the  fall  of  Wolfe,  the 
chief  command  devolved 
on  Monckton,  but  that 
gallant  officer,  like  his 
chief,  was  stretched  upon 
the  ground  with  a  ball  through  his 
lungs,  though  the  wound  in  this  case 
was  happily  not  a  fatal  one.  It  then 
fell  upon  Townshend  to  clinch  the  vic- 
tory won  by  the  man  whom  he  alone 
of  all  the  army  had  been  inclined  to 
belittle,  and  no  fault  can  be  found  with 
the  fashion  in  which  he  did  it. 

The  main  part  of  the  battle  was  over 
in  twenty  minutes.  Montcalm's  army 
was  swept  in  such  headlong  rout  and 
confusion  from  the  field  that  isolated 
efforts  to  stem  the  tide  were  futile, 
and  the  brave  French  general,  who, 
mounted  on  his  black  horse,  had  done 
his  utmost  to  rallj  the  broken  troops, 
was  now  in  this  bitter  hour  himself 
struck  down  with  a  mortal  wound. 
But  on  either  flank  of  the  actual 
battlefield  there  had  beeji  resistance  of 
a  most  effective  kind.  Large  bodies 
of  Canadian  irregulars  and  Indians 
had  thrown  themselves  into  the  border- 
ing woods  and  poured  a   hot  fire  into 


the  victorious  British.     There  were  no 

Rangers  on  the  spot,  and  it  had  fallen 
to  the  lot  of  the  Highlanders  and  light 
infantry  to  clear  the  woods  as  they  ad- 
vanced. The  former,  rashly  trusting 
to  their  broadswords  only,  lost  i6oout 
of  600  men,  mostly  in  this  perilous 
performance.  .After  a  time,  however, 
these  flanking  sharpshooters  of  the 
enemy  were  driven  from  their  cover  to 
swell  the  panic-stricken  mob  of  fugi- 
tives who  were  choking  the  gates  of 
Quebec  and  the  approaches  to  the 
bridge  over  the  St.  Charles.  The 
guns  of  the  city,  however,  had  no  im- 
mediate reason  to  share  in  the  general 
paralysis,  and  Townshend  sounded  the 
recall  as  they  began  to  play  upon  his 
pursuing  troops.  Trenching  tools  and 
guns  were  being  rapidly  brought  up 
from  the  Anse  du  Foulon,  and  no  time 
was  lost  in  strengthening  the  position. 
An  advanced  party  of  Bougainville's 
force  had  actually  attacked  the  rear 
during  the  battle,  but  the  troops  left  in 
reserve  had  repulsed  them  without 
difficulty.  The  main  column  now  ar- 
rived, but  it  was  too  late,  for  Mont- 
calm's army  had  vanished,  and  4,000 


56 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


veterans,  flushed  with  victory,  barred 
the  way. 

The  loss  of  the  French  during  the 
action  was  about  1,500,  including  250 
prisoners.  Of  the  British,  58  were 
killed  and  597  wounded.  Knox  tells 
us  that  many  of  the  French  officers 
who  were  taken  were  still  haunted 
with  fears  of  vengeance  for  Fort  Wil- 
liam Henry,  and  with  bared  heads 
protested  earnestly  that  they  had  taken 
no  part  in  that  lamentable  massacre. 
Montcalm,  shot  through  the  abdomen, 
laydyingwithin  the  ruined  town.  When 
told  that  he  had  only  twelve  hours  to 
live,  he  professed  satisfaction  since  he 
would  not,  in  that  case,  be  a  witness 
of  the  surrender  of  the  city.  He  de- 
clared that  as  he  was  fated  to  be  beat- 
en he  was  glad  it  was  by  so  brave  an 
enemy.  He  refused  to  issue  any  more 
orders,  saying  his  time  was  too  short, 
and  he  would  fain  be  left  alone.  He 
did  not,  however,  forget  his  soldiers, 
and  dictated  a  generous  note  to  Towns- 
hend  on  behalf  of  his  prisoners  and 
the  Canadians  generally,  assuring  him 
at  the  same  time  of  his  confidence  in 
the  humanity  of  the  English. 

'*  Be  their  protector,"  he  winds  up 
with  touching  quaintness,  "  as  I  have 
been  their  father." 

The  brave  gentleman  and  able  sol- 
dier died  before  the  dawn.  In  the 
confusion  no  coffin  was  forthcoming. 
His  remains  were  placed  in  a  deal  box, 
and,  escorted  by  a  few  officers  of  the- 
garrison  and  a  troop  of  women  and 
children,  were  borne  to  the  chapel  of 
the  Ursulines,  and  deposited  in  a  grave 
made  by  the  bursting  of  a  British 
shell. 

Vaudreuil,  in  the  meantime,  met  the 
fugitives  from  the  battlefield  at  the 
bridge  over  the  St.  Charles,  where 
there  was  a  scene  of  indescribable  con- 
fusion. Every  one  had  lost  his  head, 
and  veteran  officers  were  clamouring 
for  a  surrender,  crying  out  that  the 
British  were  upon  them,  and  that  they 
would  be  cut  to  pieces. 

The  British,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  had 
ceased  from  the  pursuit,  and  were  con- 
centrating on  their  lines,  worn  out 
with  exhaustion   and  fatigue.     Noth- 


ing, however,  could  allay  the  panic  of 
the  French,  which  indeed  passed  all 
reason.  A  council  of  war  was  called. 
Vaudreuil  loudly  blamed  Montcalm 
for  precipitating  a  conflict  which  he 
himself  carefully  shirked,  and  then 
proceeded  to  give  a  taste  of  his  cour- 
age and  generalship  by  urging  a  re- 
treat up  the  river  of  the  whole  army. 
In  the  demoralised  state  of  the  French 
his  suggestions  met  with  an  only  too 
ready  response.  The  whole  position 
of  Beauport  was  abandoned,  just  as  it 
stood,  tents  and  all,  to  be  looted  by 
country  people  and  the  Indians.  Bou- 
gainville was  notified  of  the  move- 
ment, and  at  dark  that  same  evening 
the  entire  French  force,  except  the 
militiamen  who  deserted  to  their  homes 
and  the  feeble  garrison  within  the  city, 
were  hurrying  around  the  British  posi- 
tion at  a  pace  which  the  Chevalier 
Johnstone,  who  was  with  them,  calls 
a  disgraceful  rout.  Not  only  Mont- 
calm, but  Senezergue  and  De  L'Ours, 
his  second  and  third  in  command,  had 
been  mortally  wounded.  De  Rame- 
zay,  with  a  thousand  quite  inefficient 
men,  mere  citizens  for  the  most  part, 
was  left  in  the  city  with  instructions  to 
surrender  if  an  assault  should  be 
threatened.  This  remnant  were  not 
lacking  in  spirit,  and  had  endured  the 
siege  without  murmur,  but  to  expect 
more  of  them  at  this  moment  was 
ridiculous.  If  the  French  army,  they 
}ust4y  urged,  was  afraid  to  again  face 
Wolfe's  victorious  battalions,  what 
could  be  expected  of  a  few  hundred 
half-starved  old  men  and  boys,  with 
only  a  score  or  two  sailors  and  soldiers 
to  stiff'en  them  ? 

The  French  army,  in  the  meantime, 
did  not  stay  their  rapid  flight  till  they 
had  placed  thirty  miles  behind  them, 
and  reached  Jacques  Cartier  on  the  St. 
Lawrence.  A  message  had  been  sent 
on  the  day  of  battle  to  L^vis  at  Mon- 
treal, who  was  now  in  chief  command, 
and  Vaudreuil's  expectations  that  he 
would  descend  the  river  and  meet 
them  at  Jacques  Cartier  were  well 
founded.  When  that  brave  and  vig- 
orous soldier  reached  the  camp  of  the 
fugitive  army  he  was  filled  with  indig- 


THE  FIGHT  FOR  NORTH  AMERICA 


57 


nation,  as  well  he  may  have  been.  To 
a  man  who  had  more  than  once  won 
victories  against  great  odds  the  situa- 
tion was  humiliating  enough.  Never 
in  their  darkest  days  of  inexperience, 
indiscipline  and  bad  leadership,  had 
the  British  in  America  behaved  so 
badly.  Bougainville's  force,  which 
had  retired  again  upon  Cap  Rouge, 
had  increased,  according  to  French 
writers,  to  3,000  men.  There  had 
been,  moreover,  1,500  good  militia  in- 
active on  the  Beauport  lines,  to  say 
nothing  of  the  garrison  of  the  city, 
while  in  Vaudreuil's  fugitive  army 
there  could  not  have  been  much  less 
than  another  3,000  soldiers,  and  in 
great  part  good  ones.  The  British 
army  before  the  city  walls  was  reduced 
by  casualties  to  under  4,000.  Wolfe's 
total  losses,  prior  to  the  battle,  in 
killed  and  wounded  and  sick,  had  been 
1,500.  There  were  probably  2,000 
efficient  men  on  guard  at  the  camps, 
hospitals  and  batteries  below  Quebec, 
which  were  liable  to  attack  at  any 
moment  from  bands  of  guerillas. 
Townshend  could  hardly  have  drawn 
seriously  on  this  reserve,  and  we  may 
therefore  picture  him,  with  his  small 
army  and  a  few  sailors  who  had  assist- 
ed in  hauling  up  his  guns  and  stores, 
busy  for  the  moment  with  pick  and 
shovel  upon  the  Plains  of  Abraham. 
The  desertion  of  many  thousand  militia 
is  allowed  for  in  the  above  estimate  of 
the  French,  which  is,  in  fact,  their 
own.  Comment  is  needless.  Panic  is 
spelled  in  every  line  of  it,  but  it  must 
always  be  remembered  that  the  author 
of  the  panic  was  the  young  hero  now 
lying  dead  in  the  cabin  of  the  Suther- 
land. 

L^vis,  when  he  reached  Jacques  Car- 
tier,  breathed  some  heart  into  Vau- 
dreuil's demoralised  army.  A  hun- 
dred mounted  men  with  sacks  of  meal 
were  despatched  in  haste  bya  circuitous 
route  to  Quebec,  with  instructions  to 
Ramezay  to  hold  out,  for  help  was  com- 
ing. The  troops  themselves  marched 
upon  the  i8th.  They  were  to  pick  up 
Bougainville  at  Cap  Rouge,  and  would 
then  far  outnumber  the  British.  But 
that  night,  when  still  fifteen  miles  from 


the  city,  the  news  reached  them  that  it 
had  fallen. 

There  is  not  much  to  be  said  of  the 
four  days  which  Townshend  and  his 
troops  spent  upon  the  heights  before 
Quebec.  He  extended  his  lines  down 
to  the  St.  Charles,  and  pushed  his 
trenches  close  up  to  the  walls.  With- 
in the  city  all  was  wretchedness,  re- 
crimination and  despair,  save  for  a 
small  body  of  gunners,  who  pounded 
the  British  trenches  with  commendable 
spirit,  but  with  little  effect.  On  the 
evening  of  the  17th  some  threatening 
movements  of  the  English  ships  and 
troops  put  a  finishing  touch  to  the 
futile  and  vanishing  courage  of  the 
feeble  garrison.  Their  officers,  and 
small  blame  to  them,  refused  to  fight, 
and  told  Ramezay,  a  gallant  old  gen- 
tleman with  a  good  record,  that  it  was 
not  fair  to  expect  them  to  sustain  the 
assault  of  a  disciplined  army  from 
which  their  own,  though  far  superior 
in  numbers,  had  fled.  There  was  a 
doughty,  if  unreasonable,  town  Major, 
however,  one  Johannes,  who  waxed 
indignant  at  such  sentiments,  and  em- 
phasised his  indignation  with  the  flat 
of  his  sword.  But  it  was  of  no  avail. 
Ramezay  had  no  choice  but  to  hoist 
the  white  flag,  though  the  devoted 
Johannes,  who  surely  deserves  to  be 
remembered  at  such  a  moment,  in- 
stantly hauled  it  down  again.  He  was 
alone  in  his  protests,  but  eventually 
consented  to  go  himself  to  Townshend 
with  an  offer  of  capitulation.  It  seems 
that,  by  making  subtle  efforts  to  spin 
out  the  negotiations,  he  defeated  there- 
by his  own  object  by  wearing  out 
Townshend's  limited  stock  of  patience, 
since  all  the  satisfaction  he  could 
bring  to  Ramezay  was  that  if  the  place 
were  not  delivered  up  by  eleven  o'clock 
it  would  be  carried  by  storm.  Rame- 
zay signed  the  articles  submitted  to 
him,  and  they  were  in  Townshend's 
hands  by  the  time  agreed  upon.  He 
had  scarcely  received  them  when  Levis' 
light  horse  with  the  meal  bags  rode  in 
to  say  that  succour  was  coming. 
Ramezay,  however,  with  an  honour 
that  does  him  credit,  refused  to  cancel 
an    agreement  on    which  the  ink  had 


58 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


scarcely  dried.  The  terms  were  favour- 
able, for  Townshend's  position  was 
none  too  secure,  and  without  loss  of 
time  he  marched  his  army  into  the 
ruined  town,  which  had  yet  another 
siege  to  endure,  though  its  details 
have  been  hopelessly  obscured  by  the 
glamour  of  the  first  one.  It  will  be 
our  duty  in  the  succeeding  chapter  to 
say  something  of  an  episode  in  British 
history  that  is  not  without  honour,  but, 
for  the  reason,  no  doubt,  just  men- 
tioned, is  utterly  without  fame. 

In  regard  to  this  memorable  i8th  of 
September  it  only  remains  to  tell  how 
the  re-invigorated  French  army  learnt 
that  night  at  St.  Augustin  that  they 
were  too  late,  and  that  the  British 
flag  was  already  floating  over  the  ruins 
of  the  proud  city  which  for  a  century 
and  a  half  had  been  almost  more 
French  than  France  herself. 

Of  the  still  more  famous  13th  of  the 
same  month  what  more  can  be  said  ? 
It  is  my  business  to  follow  out  the 
campaign  to  its  termination,  and  in  so 
doing  to  seem,  perhaps,  a  destroyer  of 
landmarks,  a  disturber  of  time-honour- 
ed traditions.  I  should  like,  however, 
so  far  as  my  own  study  of  these  wars 
teaches  me,  to  endorse  rather  than  to 
disturb  ancient  landmarks.  The  fight 
upon  the  Plains  of  Abraham,  beyond 
all  doubt  or  question,  settled  the  fate 
of  Canada  and  eliminated  the  French- 
man as  a  governing  factor  in  the  life 
of  the  western  continent.  It  did  yet 
more,  for  if  the  republic  of  the  United 
States  was  born  at  Yorktown,  the 
seeds  of  the  Dominion  of  Canada  were 
surely  sown  on  the  plateau  of  Quebec. 
In  all  history  there  is  no  more 
dramatic  episode  ;  at  the  same  time  it 
would  be  hard  to  name  one  that  had 
more  influence  on  the  future  of  the 
world. 

The  infinite  significance  of  the 
achievement  was,  of  course,  in  great 
part  hidden  from  the  eyes  of  those  who 
shared  in  or  applauded  it.  But  the 
immediate  value  of  the  victory  was 
patent  enough  to  the  meanest  intel- 
ligence. When  the  news  arrived  in 
England,  following  so  closely  as  it  did 
on    tidings   of   a    disheartening    kind, 


there  was  an  outburst  of  enthusiasm 
that,  though  tempered  in  one  sense, 
was  in  another  stimulated  to  an  even 
greater  excess  of  emotion  by  the  vic- 
tor's glorious  death.  All  England 
blazed  with  bonfires  and  resounded 
with  pealing  bells,  but  the  grief  for 
Wolfe,  mingled  with  the  sounds  of 
triumph,  Burke  tells  us,  was  most 
noticeable.  "The  loss  of  a  genius  in 
war  is  a  loss  that  we  know  not  how  to 
repair."  "The  people,"  says  Walpole, 
"triumphed  and  wept,  for  Wolfe  had 
fallen  in  the  hour  of  victory  !  Joy, 
curiosity,  astonishment  were  painted 
on  every  countenance.  Not  an  incident 
but  was  heroic  and  affecting  !"  The 
recent  doubters  abased  themselves,  the 
tongues  of  envy  which  had  freely 
wagged  were  silenced.  Townshend, 
who  failed  significantly  to  do  full  honour 
in  his  despatches  to  his  dead  rival,  was 
driven  amid  much  obloquy  to  defend 
himself  in  print,  which  he  did  but 
tamely.  The  affection  with  which  the 
army  he  commanded  regarded  their 
fallen  chief  could  be  instanced  by  a  flood 
of  written  testimony:  "Our  joy  is  inex- 
pressibly damped,"  wrote  Knox  on  the 
evening  of  the  13th,  "by  the  loss  of 
one  of  the  greatest  heroes  that  this  or 
any  age  can  boast  of. " 

But  all  further  eulogy  on  Wolfe 
must  be  resisted.  Though  the  crucial 
blow  of  the  war  had  been  struck  and 
the  striker  was  dead,  there  was  yet 
much  to  be  done  and  much  even  to  be 
suffered  before  the  end  came.  For  the 
present,  seeing  we  must  return  later 
to  Quebec,  it  will  be  sufficient  to  state 
that  Murray  was  left  in  command  of 
the  shattered  city  with  almost  all  the 
troops  that  survived  the  campaign, 
and  that  on  October  17th  Admiral 
Saunders  and  his  ships  sailed  for  Eng- 
land, carrying  with  them  the  embalmed 
body  of  the  dead  soldier  whose  endeav- 
ours they  had  from  first  to  last  so 
loyally  seconded. 

The  Royal  William^  bearing  the  re- 
mains, arrived  at  Portsmouth  on  No- 
vember the  17th.  Amid  the  firing  of 
minute  guns  from  the  fleet,  the  tolling 
of  muffled  bells,  and  the  hushed  silence 
of  a  vast  concourse  of  spectators,  the 


THE  FIGHT  FOR  NORTH  AMERICA 


59 


funeral  cortege  wound  its  way  through 
the  town  on  the  long  road  to  London. 

Wolfe  was  laid  by  his  father's  side 
in  the  family  vault  at  Greenwich  church, 
while  the  bulky  monument  in  West- 
minster Abbey  commemorates  a  na- 
tion's gratitude  if  it  does  no  great 
credit  to  its  taste. 

While,  with  8,000  men,  Wolfe  had 
gone  to  encounter  Montcalm  and 
L^vis,  and  take  Quebec,  Amherst, 
with  almost  as  many  good  troops  and 
5,000  provincials  in  addition,  had  pro- 
ceeded against  Bourlamaque,  who, 
with  what  forces  could  be  spared  from 
the  main  army,  was  to  defend  the 
Champlain  route  to  Canada.  That 
Wolfe  succeeded  and  his  chief  failed  is 
a  fact  of  history  that,  reduced  to  bare 
figures,  creates  an  unfair  inference. 
The  former  won  success  by  genius  and 
dash  which  we  may  almost  fancy  com- 
pelled the  assistance  which  an  admir- 
ing fortune  gave  him.  The  latter 
failed  from  the  lack  of  such  inspiration 
as  is  heaven-born  and  given  to  but  a 
few.  He  was  thorough  and  careful, 
and  made  almost  no  mistakes;  but  he 
had  great  difficulties  to  contend  with, 
and  did  not  succeed,  this  year  at  least, 
in  attracting  the  smiles  of  fortune. 

Amherst  was,  in  truth,  a  good  sol- 
dier and  a  man  of  tact  as  well.  He 
was  well  liked  in  America,  though  he 
had  to  face  the  bad  odour  which  the 
hapless  Abercromby  had  left  behind 
him.  This,  however,  in  the  provinces 
which  had  reason  to  complain,  he 
had  no  difficulty  in  surmounting.  It 
was  in  those  rather  who  had  none,  but 
on  the  contrary  owed  their  deliverance 
from  three  years  of  frontier  war,  and 
misery  and  massacre,  to  the  self-sacri- 
fice of  Forbes,  that  obstruction  and 
discontent  met  his  friendly  overtures. 

In  Philadelphia,  where  the  brave 
Scotchman  had  just  laid  down  his  life, 
and  whither  Amherst  went  early  in  the 
year  to  talk  about  reinforcements  and 
Indian  affairs,  he  found  no  gratitude 
whatever  for  the  routing  of  the  French 
and  Indian  upon  the  long-harried 
Pennsylvania  border.  There  was 
much  grumbling  at  having  to  shelter 
the  troops  who  had   fought  and  bled 


for  them,  and  still  more  because  gov- 
ernment had  not  yet  met  the  claims  of 
team-owners  and  hucksters,  whose 
impositions  the  honest  Forbes,  it  will 
be  remembered,  had  denounced  in  un- 
measured terms.  The  fact  was,  that 
every  one  in  government  employ  in 
America,  from  Amherst  and  Wolfe 
down  to  the  meanest  private,  had  to 
wait  for  his  money.  It  was  a  time 
of  supreme  effort  and  self-denial,  and 
a  moment  well  worth  it,  if  ever  there 
were  one.  Still  it  was  aggravated  by 
scandalous  negligence  on  the  part  of 
Barrington,  the  English  Secretary  for 
War.  .Amherst  was  immensely  ham- 
pered, and  had  to  occupy  himself  in 
urging  the  provincial  governments  to 
temporary  financial  expedients,  which 
was  not  easy,  as  the  credit  of  the  im- 
perial government  had  suffered  greatly. 
After  finding  the  garrison  for  Fort  Pitt, 
asDuquesne  was  nowcalled,and  that  of 
a  few  smaller  posts,  the  southern  colo- 
nies, freed  at  length  from  all  fear  of 
French  or  Indian,  relapsed  into  their 
wonted  calm  of  tobacco-planting,  visit- 
paying,  fox-hunting  and  mild  wrang- 
ling with  their  governors.  They  ap- 
pear no  more  in  this  war,  in  which 
they  had,  indeed,  figured  somewhat 
poorly,  while  their  borderers,  who 
were  for  the  most  part  a  race  unto 
themselves,  set  to  work  to  re-occupy 
the  ravaged  districts  along  the  Blue 
Ridge  and  the  Alleghanies.  Washing- 
ton, with  no  further  prospect  of  active 
service,  now  retired  to  matrimony  and 
country  life.  He  had  gone  straight  to 
Virginia  off  the  long  and  arduous  re- 
turn march  with  the  dying  Forbes,  ac- 
companied by  several  of  his  friends 
among  the  British  officers,  and  mar- 
ried in  their  presence  the  handsome 
and  well-dowered  widow,  Mrs.  Custis. 
He  was  personally  thanked  for  his  past 
services  by  the  House  of  Burgesses, 
and  his  inability  to  reply  to  the  Speak- 
er's eulogistic  address  drew  from  that 
gentleman  a  happy  remark,  which,  to- 
gether with  the  incident,  has  become 
historic:  "Sit  down,  Mr.  Washing- 
ton; your  modesty  equals  your  valour." 
Remembering  Washington's  outspoken 
criticisms    of  his  legislature    and  the 


6o 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


feeble  support  it  had  given  him,  one 
might  well  imagine  that  his  heart  was 
too  full  for  words,  and  as  a  simple, 
straightforward  man,  heconsidered  that 
the  less  said  the  better. 

Pennsylvania  in  the  meantime  was 
so  backward  in  voting  the  troops  Am- 
herst asked  for  that  he  threatened  to 
remove  all  the  garrisons  from  her 
frontier,  a  threat  which  brought  mat- 
ters to  a  speedy  and  satisfactory  con- 
clusion. For  it  must  not  be  forgotten 
that  there  was  a  sturdy  minority,  even 
in  Philadelphia,  who  had  felt  bitterly 
the  part  played  by  the  Legislature, 
while  the  Western  Counties  had  on 
one  occasion  threatened  to  march  upon 
the  city  and  compel  the  House  to  take 
military  action.  The  Northern  Colo- 
nies, on  the  other  hand,  swallowed  the 
memory  of  Abercromby,  made  the  best 
of  financial  difficulties,  and  came  for- 
ward handsomely.  New  York  found 
3,000  men,  and  even  little  Jersey,  al- 
most the  only  province  without  an  ex- 
posed frontier,  supplied  a  regiment  a 
thousand  strong,  while  New  England, 
as  usual,  was  in  no  way  backward. 

Colonel  and  Brigadier  Prideaux,  who 
had  just  landed,  was  to  lead  a  force  up 
the  Mohawk  route,  rebuild  Oswego 
and  attack  Niagara.  Amherst  him- 
self, as  we  know,  was  for  the  North- 
ern road.  Albany  was  the  starting- 
point  for  both  armies,  and  once  again 
when  the  ice  melted  and  the  spring 
opened  it  resounded  with  the  din  of 
arms,  and  the  thrifty  Dutch  traders 
reaped  the  harvest  that  of  necessity 
accrued  from  the  prolonged  presence 
of  20,000  armed  men.  Once  more  the 
rough  forest  road  from  Fort  Edward 
on  the  Hudson  to  Lake  George  was 
beaten  hard  by  a  steady  stream  of 
marching  troops,  of  guns  and  wag- 
gons, and  the  old  trysting  place  at 
the  lake  head  was  again  gay  with 
tents  and  varied  uniforms,  and  the  bay 
itself  dark  with  boats.  Amherst  had 
collected  here  6,000  regulars  and 
nearly  5,000  provincials.  There  were 
2,000  Highlanders  with  the  17th,  27th, 
53rd  regiments,  and  ist  battalion  of 
the  6oth,  besides  light  infantry  under 
Gage;   Rangers,   who  now  ranked  as 


regulars,  as  well  they  may  have,  and  the 
usual  small  complement  of  artillerymen. 

The  inevitable  delays  in  mustering 
and  provisioning  the  colonial  troops 
had  occurred,  and  it  was  the  20th  of 
July  when  another  pageant,  no  less 
gorgeous  than  that  of  Abercromby  in 
the  previous  year,  and  with  more  hope- 
ful prospects,  floated  down  the  lake. 
The  troops  landed  without  opposition 
on  the  east  bank  of  the  river  outlet 
and  marched  without  hindrance  across 
to  the  sawmills  whence  Abercromby 
had  delivered  his  ill-timed  and  ill-fated 
assault.  Crossing  the  stream,  the 
scouts  found  the  famous  redoubt  of 
Ticonderoga  stronger  than  ever  but,  to 
their  surprise,  unoccupied.  Bourla- 
maque  was  stationed  here  with  nearly 
4,000  men — more,  in  fact,  than  Mont- 
calm had  used  on  the  same  spot  with 
such  deadly  eff"ect.  But  Amherst  was 
not  Abercromby,  as  Bourlamaque  knew 
very  well,  and  would  have  knocked 
those  wooden  walls  to  pieces  in  an 
hour.  The  French  were  in  the  stone 
fortress  on  the  point.  The  preliminary 
operation  of  a  siege,  with  some  little 
skirmishing  in  the  woods  which  were 
full  of  French  Indians,  went  on. 
Bourlamaque,  however,  was  under 
orders  from  Vaudreuil  to  make  his 
stand  at  another  point.  So  on  the 
night  of  the  26th  he  and  his  garrison 
embarked  quietly  on  the  lake,  aban- 
doning the  fort.  After  the  last  man 
had  left,  a  dull  roar,  followed  by  a 
tremendous  explosion,  burst  on  the 
summer  night  as  part  of  the  masonry 
of  the  fort  was  hurled  skywards. 
Sheets  of  flame  flared  from  the  debris, 
making  a  grand  and  awful  spectacle, 
while  against  the  light  of  the  flames 
the  abandoned  French  flag  was  seen 
streaming  in  the  wind.  A  sergeant  of 
Gage's  corps,  with  four  privates,  rushed 
forward  and  achieved  the  perilous 
task  of  snatching  the  trophy  from  the 
blazing  buildings.  Thus,  in  dramatic 
fashion,  fell  Ticonderoga,  for  years  the 
armed  gate  of  Canada,  the  barrier  to 
invading  armies,  and  the  scourge  of 
the  Northern  frontiers  as  Duquesne 
has  been  to  those  of  the  lower  colonies. 

The  French  had  temporarily  retired 


THE  FIGHT  FOR  NORTH  AMERICA 


6i 


to  their  second  fort  at  Crown  Point, 
ten  miles  down  the  lake,  and  Amherst 
in  his  deliberate  fashion  followed  them, 
but  only  to  find  this  also  gutted  and 
abandoned.  Bourlamaque  had  carried 
his  army  to  the  extreme  end  of  Lake 
Champlain  and,  according  to  his  in- 
structions, prepared  to  resist  Amherst 
at  the  ile-aux-Noix.  This  last  was  an 
island  in  the  centre  of  the  Richelieu 
River,  the  waterway  to  Canada  and  a 
position  of  great  natural  strength. 
But,  in  spite  of  the  numbers  and  spirit 
of  his  force  and  his  own  skill,  Amherst 
was  now  stopped  by  an  obstacle,  small 
enough  in  itself,  but  insuperable.  This 
was  the  presence  on  the  lake  of  four 
vicious  little  French  vessels,  armed 
with  cannon  and  manned  with  sailors. 
Amherst  had  nothing  to  cope  with 
them.  It  is  often  said  that,  as  their 
existence  was  no  secret,  he  should  have 
provided  himself  with  a  superior  arma- 
ment, building  it  on  Wood  Creek  early 
in  the  season.  But  it  was  too  late  for 
regrets;  he  had  now  to  sit  down  and 
create  his  little  fleet  with  the  sole 
assistance  of  the  historic  but  inefficient 
sawmill  near  Ticonderoga. 

It  was  now  only  the  beginning  of 
August,  and  his  ships  were  not  fin- 
ished till  the  middle  of  October,  by 
which  time  there  was  little  hope  of 
reaching  Canada,  and  none  whatever 
of  assisting  Wolfe,  of  whom  no 
news  had  come.  Three  messengers 
had  been  sent  to  him:  one  of  them  had 
got  through,  but  the  others  were 
caught  and  sent  to  Montcalm.  Am- 
herst had  a  passion  for  fort  building, 
and  having  patched  up  Ticonderoga, 
he  decided  to  restore  and  enlarge 
,  Crown  Point,  which,  standing  out  on 
a  promontory  at  the  narrowest  part  of 
the  lake,  was  eminently  the  key  to  the 
whole  situation.  Three  thousand  men 
were  now  set  to  work  upon  the  fort- 
ress. Others  worked  upon  the  ships. 
The  remainder  practised  their  manoeu- 
vres or  fished  in  the  lake,  while  the 
Rangers,  under  Rogers,  scoured  the 
woods. 

Our  invaluable  traveller,  Dr.  Kalm, 
had  been  staying  at  Crown  Point  a 
few  years  earlier  in  the  piping  times  of 


peace,  as  a  guest  of  the  commandant, 
M.  Lusignan.  He  gives  a  delightful 
account  of  the  almost  idyllic  life  led 
by  the  garrison  at  this  romantic  spot. 
The  fort,  he  tells  us,  was  a  quadrangle 
with  high  stone  walls,  rendered  still 
more  formidable  in  some  parts  by  the 
steep  rocks  over  the  lake  on  which 
they  stood.  At  one  end  was  a  high 
stone  tower  mounted  with  guns  from 
base  to  summit,  while  in  the  enclosure 
were  excellent  stone  houses  for  the 
men  and  officers,  and  a  chapel.  On 
the  shore  adjoining  the  fort  were 
cleared  fields  where  the  garrison  cows 
wandered,  and  where  every  private 
soldier  had  his  garden.  The  com- 
mandant was  a  man  of  culture  and 
varied  information.  The  soldiers, 
though  in  no  way  disrespectful,  seemed 
on  the  friendliest  terms  with  their 
officers.  They  were  sufficiently  paid 
and  admirably  fed,  for  the  woods  were 
full  of  game,  the  lake  offish,  and  a  holi- 
day could  always  be  had  for  the  ask- 
ing. The  men  served  till  they  were 
forty  or  fifty  years  old,  when,  as  we 
know,  the  king  presented  them  with  a 
farm  and  provided  them  with  food  for 
the  first  two  or  three  years,  and  some- 
times even  with  a  wife.  The  learned 
Professor  gazed  with  admiration  at  the 
lofty,  wood-clad  masses  of  the  Adi- 
rondacks  behind  the  fort,  and  marked 
across  the  lake  the  long,  level  plain  of 
then  virgin  forest,  backed  by  the 
swelling  ridges  of  the  green  mount- 
ains, from  which  the  State  of  Ver- 
mont took  its  name.  He  rambled 
everywhere,  noting  birds  and  flowers 
and  trees  and  rocks,  these  things  be- 
ing his  immediate  business.  He  also 
tells  us  of  a  stone  windmill,  mounted 
with  cannon — so  placed  as  to  com- 
mand a  splendid  view  of  the  water  to- 
wards Ticonderoga — whence  the  hos- 
tile barks  of  the  British  or  their  Iro- 
quois allies  could  be  seen  approaching. 
All  this  was  in  174Q,  and  though  blood 
enough  had  been  shed  even  then  along 
these  lakes,  neither  the  Doctor  nor 
his  host  could  have  guessed  what 
warlike  pageants  and  stirring  scenes 
they  were  yet  to  witness. 

News  came  to  .Amherst  in  August  of 


62 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


the  capture  of  Niagara  and  the  death 
of  Prideaux,  upon  which  he  at  once 
despatched  Gage  to  take  command. 
The  two  months  at  Crown  Point  were 
not  wholly  inactive  ones.  They  were 
marked,  at  any  rate,  by  one  of  the 
most  sensational  pieces  of  dare-devil 
enterprise  that  even  Robert  Rogers 
ever  achieved. 

Now  there  was  a  large  settlement  of 
Abernakis  Indians  on  the  St.  Francis 
River,  about  i8o  miles  north  of  Crown 
Point,  near  Montreal,  and  far  in  Bour- 
lamaque's  rear.  They  had  been  set- 
tled there  for  several  generations  under 
the  protection  of  the  French,  and  were 
what  the  Canadian  Church  was  pleased 
to  call  Christians,  observing,  that  is  to 
say  in  ignorant  fashion,  the  mere 
outward  forms  of  the  Roman  Church, 
but  in  practical  Christianity  being  no 
better  than  the  darkest  western  savage. 
Perhaps  they  were  even  worse,  as  inter- 
tribal obligations  had  been  cast  off  and 
they  had  no  limitations  to  their  lust  of 
blood.  They  were  invaluable,  how- 
ever, to  the  Canadians,  and  the  scourge 
of  the  New  England  frontier.  Rogers 
set  out  on  September  13th  with  230 
picked  men,  to  read  them  a  lesson. 
"Take  your  revenge,"  Amherst  told 
him;  "but,  though  these  villains  have 
promiscuously  murdered  our  women 
and  children  of  all  ages,  it  is  my  orders 
that  none  of  theirs  are  killed  or  hurt." 

Rogers  and  his  party  stole  along  the 
western  shore  of  Lake  Champlain  in 
whale  boats,  unobserved  by  the  French 
cruisers,  as  far  as  Missisquoi  Bay,  90 
miles  to  the  northward.  There  he  hid 
his  boats,  leaving  some  friendly  In- 
dians to  watch  if  they  were  discover- 
ed, and  bring  him  word.  He  had  now 
another  90  miles  to  march  through  the 
trackless  forest,  overlapped  upon  every 
side  by  enemies.  His  Indian  watchers 
soon  overtook  him  with  the  informa- 
tion that  his  boats  were  destroyed  and 
that  a  large  force  of  French  were  in 
hot  pursuit.  With  this  crushing  blow 
the  courage  of  Rogers  and  his  men 
rose  rather  than  fell.  They  deter- 
mined to  press  on,  keep  ahead  of  their 
pursuers,  destroy  the  Indian  hornets' 
nest  at  St.  Francis,  and  then,  sweep- 


ing to  the  eastward,  make  for  the 
frontier  of  New  England.  Perhaps  a 
closer  knowledge  of  local  topography, 
and  of  the  then  state  of  the  country 
than  could  be  expected  of  the  general 
reader,  is  required  to  quite  grasp  the 
daring  of  Rogers'  exploit  and  the 
woodcraft  that  made  it  possible.  He 
sent  a  message  back  to  Amherst  to 
forward  provisions  to  a  certain  spot  on 
the  Connecticut  River,  and  then  he  and 
his  men  toiled  on  for  ten  days  through 
some  of  the  densest  swamps  and  forests 
in  North  America.  When  they  reach- 
ed the  St.  Francis  River  the  current 
was  swift  and  chin  deep.  All  of  them, 
however,  but  a  few  British  officers, 
volunteers,  were  hardened  backwoods- 
men, and,  linking  arms,  they  reached 
the  further  bank  in  safety,  though  with 
great  difficulty.  Soon  afterwards  Ro- 
gers climbed  to  the  top  of  a  tree 
and  espied  the  Indian  village  three 
miles  away,  nestling  amid  the  woods 
in  supreme  unconsciousness  of  its  im- 
pending fate.  Secreting  his  men,  he 
himself  crept  to  the  edge  of  the  settle- 
ment and  found  the  whole  population 
absorbed  in  one  of  their  characteristic 
festivals,  a  mad  orgie  of  dancing  and 
clamour.  Creeping  back  to  his  force, 
which  by  sickness,  death  and  hardship 
had  been  reduced  to  142,  he  lay  with 
them  in  hiding  till  the  dark  hours  of 
the  morning.  Then,  in  a  half-circle, 
they  silently  advanced  upon  the  town, 
now  wrapt  in  sleep  more  profound  than 
common  from  the  exertions  of  the 
previous  evening.  At  a  given  signal 
from  Rogers  the  whole  band  rushed 
upon  the  cabins  and  wigwams.  The 
surprise  was  complete.  There  were 
about  200  men  in  the  place,  nearly  as 
many,  unfortunately  from  Rogers' 
point  of  view,  being  absent  on  an 
expedition.  Every  one  of  them  was 
killed.  A  few  got  away  upon  the  river 
but  were  followed  up  and  slaughtered, 
though  no  women  or  children  were 
touched.  Five  English  captives  were 
released,  and  600  English  scalps,  torn 
from  the  heads  of  both  sexes  and  all 
ages  beyond  the  New  England  frontier, 
were  found  nailed  to  the  doors  of  the 
houses     as     trophies.     The    Catholic 


THE  FIGHT  FOR  NORTH  AMERICA 


63 


Church,     with    amazing    incongruity, 
rose  in  the  midst  of  these  unredeemed 
barbarians,  three  generations  of  whom 
its  bell  had   rung   to    mass  with  labor- 
ious  regularity.      Such  was  the  Chris- 
tianity which  satisfied  the  ethics  of  the 
French-Canadian    priesthood    of   that 
day.      Rogers  burnt  the  whole  village 
to   the  ground,  including  the   church, 
and    one    can  scarcely    profess    much 
compunction   that   the  priest   perished 
inside  it.     Only  one  man  of  the  British 
force    was    killed,   and    three    or    four 
were  wounded.      It  was  now  past  sun- 
rise, and  the  famous  backwoods  leader 
learned  that  there  were  400  Frenchmen 
just  in  front  of  him  and  200  more  on 
his  flank.      The  whole  army  of  Bourla- 
maque    lay  between    him  and   Crown 
Point,  190  miles  away,  and  he  was  half 
that  distance  over  the  Canadian  front- 
ier.     If  his  boats  on  Lake  Champlain 
had  escaped  notice  he  would  have  got 
back   without    difficulty.     As    it   was, 
however,  the   circuitous   route  to   the 
Connecticut    River,    whither    Amherst 
had  promised  to  send   food   in  case  of 
accidents,    was    Rogers'    only   choice. 
Carrying  such  corn  as   they  were  able 
for    their    subsistence,   these    intrepid 
men  eluded  their  swarming  foes  by  a 
forced  march    of   eight    days  through 
tangled    swamps  and  wooded   ridges. 
They  traversed   through   blinding  for- 
ests  what  is   now  a   fair   and  famous 
country,  "the    Eastern    townships"  of 
Canada,  an  old  and  highly  developed 
settlement  of  purely  British  blood  and 
origin,  sandwiched  between  French  Ca- 
nada and  the  United  States.   Ultimate- 
ly  they   reached   the   broad   waters  of 
Lake  Memphremagog,  so  familiar  now 
to    the    tourist    and    the     sportsman. 
Here,  running  out  of  food,  they  separ- 
ated into  small  parties  so   as  better  to 
kill   the  game  they  stood  in    need  of, 
but    which    proved    woefully    scarce. 
The  adventures  and  sufferings  of  the 
various   groups    before    the    survivors 
reached   the    British   lines,  are  among 
the  thousand  thrilling  tales   of  border 
warfare.      Many     were     killed,     many 
taken  prisoners  and  carried  off  to  the 
torture   and   the    stake  in    Indian    vil- 
lages.    The  officer  Amherst  had  sent 


with  food  to  the  Connecticut  River 
miserably  failed,  for  which  failure  he 
was  cashiered.  The  despair  of  the 
ninety  odd  survivors  at  this  moment 
was  at  its  height,  for  a  vast  distance  of 
wilderness  had  yet  to  be  travelled. 
By  Rogers'  heroism  and  fertility  of 
resource,  however,  the  half-starved 
band  were  in  one  way  and  another  got 
back  to  camp  early  in  November. 
They  had  traversed  over  400  miles, 
destroyed  more  than  their  own  number 
of  the  foulest  Indians  in  the  north,  and 
struck  a  blow  that  resounded  through 
Canada.  Amherst  thanked  them  warm- 
ly. One  does  not  hear  that  they  re- 
ceived or  expected  anything  more.  It 
was  all  in  the  Rangers*  day's  work, 
and  Rogers  himself  has  left  an  account 
of  the  expedition. 

Amherst,  in  the  meantime,  had 
completed  his  ships,  and  on  the  first 
venture  they  destroyed  their  French 
rivals.  But  it  was  now  the  middle  of 
October,  and  the  weather  had  broken: 
sleet-laden  storms  were  lashing  the 
surface  of  Lake  Champlain  into  a  fury, 
and  winter  was  looming  near. 

L«ivis,  who  had  long  since  come 
from  Montcalm,  had  helped  Bourla- 
maque  to  make  the  passage  of  the  Riche- 
lieu to  Canada  impregnable  under  a 
long  siege — and  for  that  there  was  no 
time,  since  100  guns  securely  en- 
trenched defended  the  passage.  Que- 
bec, too,  had  fallen,  which  lessened 
the  urgency,  and,  lastly,  the  service 
period  of  the  provincial  troops  expired 
on  November  ist.  So  the  army,  still 
shivering  in  its  summer  clothing,  re- 
tired up  the  lakes,  leaving  strong  gar- 
risons at  Crown  Point  and  Ticonder- 
oga,  who  sent  salvoes  of  artillery 
echoing  through  the  surrounding 
mountains  in  honour  of  the  birthday, 
and,  as  it  so  happened,  the  last  one,  of 
George  the  Second. 

Prideaux,  the  brigadier,  whose  mis- 
sion it  was  to  rebuild  Oswego,  take 
Niagara  and  ruin  the  French  interest  in 
those  north-western  regions  over  which 
their  sway  had  been  so  long  undis- 
puted, was  early  in  the  field.  He  was 
at  Schenectady  on  the  Mohawk  route 
late   in  May,    and    was  joined   by    his 


64 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


Division.  This  consisted  of  the  44th 
and  46th  regiments  and  2,600  New 
York  provincials.  There^  were  forts 
now  at  intervals  the  whole  way  from 
the  Hudson  to  Lake  Ontario,  and  his 
communications  were  thus  secured 
against  the  cross-country  raids  from 
Canada,  that  had  been  the  terror  of 
those  who  travelled  and  those  who 
lived  upon  this  forest  highway.  John- 
son was  commissioned  to  seize  this 
favourable  moment  of  the  waning  of 
French  prestige  to  stir  up  the  Six 
Nations  to  their  old  enthusiasm  for 
the  British  cause.  The  ever-vigilant 
backwoods  baronet  needed  no  press- 
ing, but  held  in  his  lavish  fashion  a 
grand  council,  celebrated  with  meat 
and  drink  and  eloquence  at  Fort  John- 
son. Five  hundred  Indians  attended; 
not  only  representatives  of  the  faith- 
ful nations,  but  of  several  others  for- 
merly hostile,  who,  wise  in  their  gen- 
eration, had  read  the  writing  on  the 
wall.  This  time  they  sang  the  war 
song  on  the  banks  of  the  Mohawk 
with  serious  intent,  and  900  warriors 
at  the  response  of  their  chiefs  painted 
and  befeathered  themselves  for  battle. 
Prideaux  and  his  men  were  upon 
the  site  of  Oswego  by  the  middle  of 
June.  Haldimand,  the  second  in  com- 
mand, was  given  the  task  of  rebuild- 
ing the  fort.  Like  Bouquet,  he  was  a 
faithful  and  able  Swiss  officer,  who  had 
been  imported  to  assist  in  the  forma- 
tion of  that  motley,  but  now  efficient 
corps,  the  Royal  Americans.  "  He 
had  helped  to  recruit  it  among  Ogle- 
thorpe's Highlanders  of  Georgia,  the 
Germans  and  Scotch-Irish  of  Pennsyl- 
vania, and  the  indented  servants,  poor 
whites  and  Huguenots  of  the  two  Car- 
olinas.  He  has  a  three-fold  claim  on 
England,  but  she  has  forgotten  him. 
He  was  an  indefatigable  collector,  and 
has  left  232  volumes  of  contemporary 
papers  bearing  on  this  period  to  the 
British  Museum,  as  well  as  the  Bou- 
quet papers,  which  were  his  property. 
His  military  services  were  consider- 
able, and,  above  all,  he  was  Governor 
of  Canada  during  the  Revolutionary 
War  from  1778  to  1784 — a  sufficiently 
critical    and   conspicuous  post  at  that 


time,  which  he  admirably  filled.  Ca- 
nadians complain,  and  justly  so,  that 
his  memory  is  at  least  as  worthy  of 
preservation  as  that  of  provincial 
preachers  and  forgotten  novelists,  but 
that  they  look  in  vain  through  works 
devoted  to  cataloguing  the  illustrious 
dead  for  the  name  of  this  trusty  servant 
of  the  British  crown. 

Prideaux  left  Oswego  on  July  ist. 
He  had  not  been  long  gone  when 
Saint-Luc  de  la  Corne,  the  well-known 
French  partisan  leader,  seized  the  op- 
portunity to  attack  Haldimand.  He 
brought  with  him  1,200  men,  mostly 
Canadian  irregulars,  and  the  notorious 
Abb^  Picquet,  with  some  of  his  so- 
called  Christian  Indians,  whom  he  ex- 
horted to  give  no  quarter  to  the  Brit- 
ish heretics.  They  did  not  have  a 
chance,  for,  though  Haldimand's  part- 
ies were  wood-cutting  outside  the  tem- 
porary entrenchments  of  pork  barrels, 
they  soon  rallied  to  their  lines.  De  la 
Corne's  troops  were  not  of  the  kind  to 
assault  redoubts.  They  confined  them- 
selves for  some  twenty-four  hours  to 
desultory  rifle  fire  from  the  bordering 
woods,  and  when  the  guns  which  ha4 
been  brought  to  bear  on  them  opened 
from  the  entrenchments,  they  were 
seized  with  a  panic,  and  raced  helter- 
skelter  for  their  boats,  knocking  over 
the  reverend  Abbd  in  their  haste. 
Some  thirty  of  them  were  killed  and 
wounded,  among  the  latter  being  La 
Corne  himself.  Haldimand  was  hence- 
forward left  in  peace,  and  in  due 
course  a  new  fort  arose  upon  the  site 
of  Montcalm's  first  Canadian  victory 
by  Lake  Ontario,  which  in  after  years 
became  the  familiar  quarters  of  many 
British  regiments. 

Prideaux,  in  the  meantime,  with  Sir 
William  Johnson  and  his  Indians,  was 
hugging  the  southern  shores  of  Lake 
Ontario  in  boats  and  batteaux  mount- 
ed with  guns.  The  coast  line  to  the 
outlet  of  the  Niagara  River,  where  the 
fort  stood,  was  over  seventy  miles. 
There  was  a  French  warship  cruising 
on  the  lake,  which  is  here  about  the 
breadth  of  the  English  Channel  at 
Brighton,  so  it  was  slowly,  and  with 
due    caution,    that    the    unseaworthy 


THE  FIGHT  FOR  XORTH  AMERICA 


6k 


flotilla  crept  along  the  low  shores,  in 
these  days  so  instinct  with  vigorous 
humanity,  in  those  presenting-  to  the 
restless  lake  a  continuous  background 
of  silent  and  sombre  woodland. 

Captain  Pouchot,  of  the  regiment  of 
B^arn,  was  in  command  at  P'ort  Niag- 
ara, an  excellent  officer,  and  one  of  the 
many  combatants  in  this  war  who  has 
left  memoirs  of  it.  The  Indians  for 
once — a  sign  of  the  change  of  times — 
had  failed  the  French  as  newsbearers, 
and  Pouchot  was  taken  by  surprise. 
Some  of  his  men  were  absent,  and  his 
garrison  reduced  to  less  than  600  all 
told.  At  the  very  head  of  the  Ohio 
watershed,  near  Lake  Erie,  there  were 
still  some  small  French  posts,  and 
Pouchot  now  sent  to  these  for  assist- 
ance. Many  of  the  French  guerilla 
leaders,  with  wild,  miscellaneous  bands 
of  followers,  were  yet  stirring  in  this 
dark  country,  in  vain  hopes  of  dashing 
down  and  catching  Fort  Pitt,  now  gar- 
risoned with  Provincials,  unawares. 
It  was  to  some  of  these  that  Pouchot 
now  sent,  and  they  ha*;tened  to  his 
succour. 

The  old  fort  at  Niagara  stood  on 
much  the  same  site  as  the  present  one, 
in  the  angle,  that  is  to  say,  where  the 
river  meets  Lake  Ontario.  It  was 
large,  substantial  and  well  armed,  as 
became  the  portal  and  defence  of  the 
illimitable  trading  country  behind. 
Prideaux  had  over  2,000  men  with  him, 
besides  Johnson's  900  Indians.  One- 
half  of  his  force  guarded  the  boats, 
the  other  was  free  for  the  attack.  The 
Engineers,  like  .Abercromby's,  proved 
incompetent,  and  their  first  trenches 
were  untenable.  **  Fools  and  block- 
heads, G — d  d — n  them,"  was  the  writ- 
ten criticism  of  an  indignant  Highland 
officer.  When  fresh  approaches  were 
constructed  and  the  British  guns 
opened  fire,  a  still  worse  thing  hap- 
pened, for  a  shell  burst  on  leaving  the 
mouth  of  a  coehorn  and  instantly 
killed  Prideaux,  who  was  standing 
near.  Johnson  now  took  command, 
and  the  batteries  were  actively  served. 
In  a  fortnight  the  walls  were  badly 
shattered,  over  a  hundred  of  the  small 
garrison  were  killed  or  wounded,  and 


Pouchot  realised  that  nothing  but  im- 
mediate succour  from  the  West  could 
save  him.  On  the  24th  Johnson's 
scouts  reported  that  a  French  force 
was  approaching  from  above  Niagara 
Falls.  He  therefore  pushed  forward 
during  the  night  some  light  infantry. 
Grenadiers,  and  part  of  the  46th  regi- 
ment. They  took  up  their  position 
in  the  immediate  path  of  the  ap- 
proaching French,  just  below  the 
mighty  cataract.  In  the  cool  of 
the  morning,  De  Ligneris,  Aubry, 
Marin,  de  R^pentigny,  the  cream,  in 
short,  of  the  Canadian  backwoods 
leaders,  with  a  wild  following  of  1,200 
men,  came  down  the  portage  road 
from  above  the  Falls.  The  force  in- 
cluded the  small  garrisons  at  Venango 
and  Presqu'ile,  with  a  horde  of  fight- 
ing traders  from  Detroit,  the  Illinois, 
and  the  West,  truculent,  ill-favoured 
men  who  lived  among  the  Indians, 
and,  like  them,  went  to  battle  strung 
with  beads  and  quills,  and  smeared 
with  paint  and  grease.  They  were 
brave  enough,  but  the  banks  of  the 
river  above  the  rapids  had  been  cleared. 
It  was  an  open,  not  a  woodland  fight, 
though,  indeed,  long  years  of  practice 
had  made  even  the  British  linesman  no 
mean  performer  among  the  trees. 
Here,  however,  he  was  in  the  open  and 
flanked  by  a  band  of  the  Iroquois,  the 
finest  of  savage  warriors.  The  French 
threw  themselves  with  undisciplined 
courage  and  loud  yells  upon  the  Brit- 
ish front.  The  linesmen  received  them 
as  Wolfe's  troops  on  the  Plains  of 
Abraham  six  weeks  later  received 
Montcalm's  assault — with  a  steady, 
withering  fire.  They  had  enough  men 
here,  however,  for  a  flank  attack,  which 
was  carried  out  by  the  Indians  and  light 
infantry  with  deadly  effect.  In  an 
hour  the  broken  column  of  white  sav- 
ages and  bush-rangers  were  flying 
back  in  wild  disorder  past  the  Falls 
and  the  long  stretch  of  rapids  above 
them,  to  where  their  canoes  were 
waiting,  in  smooth  water,  to  bear 
them  back  into  Lake  Erie,  whence 
they  came. 

Two  hundred  and  fifty  of  the  Ohio 
garrison  troops   alone  had  been  killed 


66 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


or  wounded  in  this  affair,  besides  num- 
bers of  their  regulars.  All  the  chief 
officers  were  taken  prisoners — de  Lig- 
neris,  Marin,  Aubry,  de  Montigny  and 
de  R^pentigny,  with  many  more. 

While  the  fight  was  in  progress  up 
the  river  a  French  officer  thought  the 
British  trenches  were  unguarded,  and 
a  sortie  was  attempted.  It  was  led  by 
de  Villars,  the  captor  of  Washington, 
in  his  youthful  essay  at  Fort  Neces- 
sity. But  as  the  French  approached 
what  had  seemed  empty  trenches,  a 
line  of  bayonets,  those  of  the  44th, 
under  Col.  Farquhar,  suddenly  flashed 
in  their  faces,  and  de  Villars  fell  back, 
according  to  his  orders  rather  than  to 
his  inclinations,  for  though  he  belong- 
ed to  a  type  whose  failings  were  many, 
lack  of  courage  was  certainly  not  one 
of  them. 

There  was  nothing  now  for  Pouchot 
but  capitulation.  Major  Hervey,  of 
the  Bristol  family,  was  sent  by  John- 
son to  demand  it,  and  from  him  the 
Frenchman  learnt  for  the  first  time  the 
full  extent  of  the  recent  defeat.  He 
would  scarcely  believe  that  all  these 
redoubtable  partisans  were  prisoners 
in  Johnson's  camp  till,  at  Hervey's  re- 
quest, he  sent  a  witness  to  verify  the 
fact.  This  settled  the  matter.  John- 
son practically  made  his  own  terms, 
though  the  "honours  of  war"  were 
conceded  in  recognition  of  the  gallantry 
of  the  defence.  Over  600  prisoners 
were  sent  to  New  York,  the  women 
and  children  to  Canada.  Fort  Wil- 
liam Henry  was  again  in  the  minds  of 
the  garrison,  and  most  urgent  appeals 
were  made  to  Johnson  for  sufficient 
safeguard  against  the  Indians.  This, 
it  need  hardly  be  said,  was  given,  a 
matter  of  course,  but  a  weaker  man 
than  Johnson  would  have  found  diffi- 
culty in  controlling  the  plundering  in- 
stincts of  his  fierce  allies.  Everything, 
however,  went  smoothly,  and  the  fort, 
with  its  forty  guns,  ammunition  and 
stores,  was  quietly  occupied  by  the 
British. 

When  Johnson  returned  to  Oswego 


a  little  friction  arose  between  Haldi- 
mand  and  himself  as  to  the  chief  com- 
mand. It  was  effectually  settled, 
however,  by  the  arrival  of  Gage  from 
Crown  Point,  who  superseded  both. 
Gage's  instructions  were  to  attack  the 
French  posted  above  the  first  rapids 
of  the  St.  Lawrence  on  the  way  from 
Lake  Ontario  to  Montreal.  He  effect- 
ed, however,  nothing  of  any  practical 
value  in  that  direction.  It  was  reserved 
for  Amherst  himself,  in  the  following 
season,  to  make  the  descent  of  the  St. 
Lawrence,  and  with  it  the  final  move 
in  the  long  game.  With  the  British 
in  possession  of  Niagara  and  Oswego, 
the  French  flag  finally  disappeared 
from  Lake  Ontario  and  its  shores. 
Their  western  posts  at  Detroit  and  the 
Illinois,  as  well  as  the  smaller  and  re- 
moter ones,  were  isolated  by  this  sev- 
erance of  the  main  artery,  and  could 
only  be  approached  by  the  tortuous 
waterways,  even  now  only  known  to 
the  sportsman  and  the  lumberman  of 
the  far  back  country  of  Ontario.  Gen- 
eral Stanwix,  in  the  meantime  operat- 
ing from  his  base  at  Fort  Pitt,  with 
4,000  men,  had  not  been  idle.  He 
had  clinched  the  new  relations  with 
the  Ohio  tribes,  and  had  eventually 
occupied  every  fort  to  Presqu'ile  on  the 
shore  of  Lake  Erie.  The  main  trunk 
of  French  Dominion  was  being  girdled 
by  the  British  axe,  and  its  far-spread- 
ing limbs,  which  brushed  the  distant 
prairies  of  the  north  and  crossed  the 
sources  of  the  Mississippi,  must  now 
perish  from  lack  of  nourishment.  One 
more  stroke,  and  the  hardy  growth  of 
empire  would  shrivel  up  and  die,  and 
this  was  to  be  aimed  by  Amherst  at 
Montreal. 

In  a  letter  written  on  the  field  of  battle  at 
two  o'clock  by  an  officer,  the  duration  of  the 
fight  is  estimated  at  half  an  hour.  The  writer 
is  Colonel  de  Ruvigny,  R.E.,  grandson  of  the 
Countvde  la  Caillemotte,  killed  at  the  Boyne, 
and  great-grandson  of  the  celebrated  Hugue- 
not statesman,  the  Marquis  de  Ruvigny,  and 
himself  subsequently  fifth  Marquis  de  Ruvignj' 
{dejure),  and  a  naturalised  English  subject. 
The  writer  speaks  of  the  fury  of  the  French 
attack,  and  the  confusion  of  their  retreat. 


TO    BE   CONTINUED 


THE  GOOSANDER 

A    "DONALD"   STORY 
By   IK  ALBERT  HICKMAN 

Note — The  "  Donald  "'  of  this  story  is  the  same  imperturbable  old  engineer  of  Mr.  Hick- 
man's story  of  the  ice-crushers,    "The  Sacrifice  of  the  Shannon." 


IR.  MONTGOMERY  PAUL 
sat  on  the  broad  verandah 
of  his  bunj^alow  and, 
through  his  cigar  smoke, 
looked  up  the  harbour  at 
Charlottetown,  Prince  Edward  Island. 
Mr.  Paul's  business  lay  chiefly  in  fol- 
lowing the  fluctuations  of  TwinCityand 
C.P.  R.  and  Dominion  Steel  and  Sao 
Paulo  and  Grand  Trunk  and  such  like 
commodities.  He  had  followed  with 
considerable  foresight  and,  as  a  result, 
had  had  a  comfortable  feeling  for  some 
years.  His  base  of  operations  was 
Toronto.  Five  years  before  he  had 
discovered  that  Muskoka  and  the 
Georgian  Bay  lacked  coolness,  and 
various  other  things  which  a  man  from 
Toronto  seeks  in  a  summer  holiday, 
and  simultaneously  discovered  that  in 
the  five  continents  and  seven  oceans 
there  is,  in  all  probability,  no  such 
summer  climate  as  that  of  Northum- 
berland Strait  and  the  southern  light 
of  the  Gulf  of  St.  Lawrence.  So  he 
built  a  bungalow  on  Hillsborough  Bay, 
and  every  summer  he  transported  his 
family  thither  and  sat  on  the  white 
sand  watching  the  sparkling  water 
and  the  fifty  miles  of  Nova  Scotia 
coast  beyond,  and  went  cod  and  bass 
and  mackerel  fishing  outside  and  forgot 
how  the  heat  came  up  in  waves  from 
the  asphalt  on  Yonge  Street  and  on 
King  Street  West. 

For  the  first  four  summers  he  had 
cruised  about  a  good  deal  in  a  twenty- 
five-foot  launch  he  had  bought  in  Char- 
lottetown, and  had  found  it  such  a  de- 
lightful pastime  that  he  had  ordered  a 
bigger  boat  from  a  Toronto  firm.  She 
was  to  be  a  fine,  seaworthy  craft  with 
a  steel  hull.  She  was  to  have  power 
enough  to  enable  her  to  steam  away 
from  any  boat  of  double  her  size  in  the 
Gulf.     She  was  finished  by  the  time  he 


was  ready  to  leave,  and  he  had  come 
in  her  by  lake  and  river  and  open  gulf 
all  the  way  from  Toronto  to  Charlotte- 
town.  If  his  stories  counted  for  any- 
thing she  must,  indeed,  be  a  marvel- 
lous boat  in  a  sea.  She  was  fifty  feet 
over  all,  and  though  she  had  a  com- 
fortable beam  her  lines  were  as  pretty 
as  those  of  a  destroyer.  She  had  a 
pair  of  locomotive-type  boilers,  a  low- 
set,  short-stroked,  big-pistoned,  triple 
expansion  engine,  which  swung  a 
long-bladed  wheel  at  a  very  respectable 
speed,  and  from  her  low  house  pro- 
jected a  short,  stumpy,  businesslike 
funnel.  .Altogether,  to  the  trained 
eye,  she  looked  well  balanced  and 
formidable.  Mr.  Paul's  tastes  were 
somewhat  luxurious,  and  he  had  fitted 
her  up  with  all  sorts  of  shining  brass 
yacht  jewellery  and  innumerable  blue 
plush  cushions.  So,  from  Charlotte- 
town's  point  of  view,  the  JK^iobe,  as  she 
was  called,  was  a  wonder  on  the  face 
of  the  deep. 

For  that  matter,  she  was  not  much 
less  in  the  eyes  of  her  owner,  who  had 
just  been  explaining  her  virtues  to 
Mr.  Robert  Hunter,  also  a  follower  of 
the  fluctuations  of  things,  and  resident 
in  Montreal.  Mr.  Hunter  had  a  yacht, 
too,  a  red  cedar  boat  a  foot  or  two 
longer  than  the  Niobe,  and  with  her 
engines  set  away  aft  along  with  a 
water-tube  boiler  fired  with  oil.  She 
was  called  the  Mermaid.  In  mag- 
nificence the  Mermaid  surpassed  even 
the  Niobe.  Her  boiler  and  funnel 
blazed  and  scintillated  crimson  and 
gold,  for  they  were  covered  with  rose- 
lacquered  brass.  Yes,  and  rose- 
lacquered  brass  was  in  all  her  parts, 
and  her  cushions  were  crimson  plush 
instead  of  blue.  Mr.  Hunter  had  said 
a  good  deal  as  to  the  Mermaids  capa- 
bilities  during    the    previous    season, 


68 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


and  this  was  one  of  the  chief  reasons 
why  Mr.  Paul  had  had  the  Niohe  built 
with  plenty  of  power.  There  were 
boats  belong^ing  to  other  magnates  in 
other  parts  of  the  Island  and  on  the 
near  mainland,  but  Mr.  Paul  felt  sure 
of  his  position. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  he  was  saying  to  Mr. 
Hunter,  "she'll  beat  any  boat  in  the 
Gulf  under  seventy-five  feet  in  length  !" 

"  Don't  believe  it  !"  said  Mr.  Hun- 
ter. 

"You  don't,  eh!  Well,  I  believe 
it  so  much  that  I'll  put  up  a  thousand 
dollars  to  be  raced  for,  and  they  can 
all  come;  but  it's  got  to  be  a  good, 
long,  open  course — say  from  Charlotte- 
town  to  Caribou.  How  does  that 
strike  you?     Will  you  come  ?" 

"Will  I  come!"  said  Mr.  Hunter, 
and  he  became  reminiscent  and  thought 
of  the  quiet  way  the  Mermaid's  engine 
turned  two  hundred  and  fifty,  "  will  I 
come!  Yes,  I'll  come — and  I'll  give 
you  a  drink  out  of  that  thousand  when 
we  get  into  Caribou." 

"  Nice  Christian  spirit,"  said  Mr. 
Paul,  and  he  laughed  and  lit  another 
cigar. 

"  And  you're  going  to  throw  it 
open  ?" 

"Oh,  what  could  you  do?  If  you 
didn't,  every  tug-boat  captain,  every 
man  in  the  Strait  who  owned  any  kind 
of  a  scow  with  a  portable  sawmill 
boiler  and  a  single  cylindered  junk 
heap  in  her  would  say  that  if  '  they'd 
'a'  let  him  in  he'd  'a'  showed  'em.' 
But  it'll  be  a  circus,  anyway.  The 
thousand  dollars  ought  to  bring  out 
pretty  nearly  everything  with  wheels 
in  it,"  and  Mr.  Paul  smiled  compila- 
cently,  and  blew  asmoke  ring  in  which 
he  framed  a  picture  of  the  Niobe's 
triumphant  rush  across  the  line  in 
Caribou  Harbour. 


The  next  harbour  up  the  Strait  from 
Caribou  is  called  North  Harbour.  On 
its  south  shore  is  a  deep  cove  with  its 
east  side  a  steep,  spruce-covered  bank, 
and  the  west  sloping  away  into  a 
sandy  beach.  Down  by  the  beach  is  a 
long,  white  lobster  factory.     One  day 


in  August  a  young  lady  of  about  four- 
teen summers  was  sitting  on  a  rock  at 
the  foot  of  the  bank  and  swinging  a 
bare  foot  in  the  water.  The  sky  was 
without  a  cloud,  and,  as  usual,  as  blue 
as  that  of  the  Mediterranean.  The 
Strait  rippled  and  sparkled,  and  every 
white  house  about  Wood  Islands,  on 
Prince  Edward  Island,  could  be  seen 
with  perfect  distinctness  through  the 
fifteen  miles  of  crystal-clear  air.  It 
was  a  perfect  Nova  ScotJa  summer 
day — and  there  was  nothing  beyond. 
But  it  was  evident  that  the  young  lady 
was  not  happy.  Her  golden  hair — 
and  it  was  golden,  and  glinted  like 
polished  gold  in  the  glare  of  the  sun — 
blew  down  across  her  glowing  cheeks 
and  freckled  nose,  and  she  brushed  it 
back  petulantly  and  wearily,  and 
scowled.  Then  a  sculpin  swam  lazily 
up  to  the  rock  and  settled  down  to 
rest,  and  the  girl  threw  a  quohog  shell 
at  him.  "  Go  away,  you  ugly  beast!" 
she  blurted,  and  the  sculpin  accepted 
the  advice  and  kept  on  going  until  he 
found  a  hole  four  feet  deep  under  a 
friendly  bank  of  eel  grass.  Before  the 
sculpin  reached  the  eel  grass — though 
he  went  so  fast  that  his  tail  ached  for 
some  time  afterward — the  change  had 
come,  the  inevitable  reaction  with  all 
her  sex  from  six  to  sixty,  and  the 
young  lady  was  weeping.  Finally  she 
heard  the  shingle  crunch,  and  she  faced 
round  defiantly,  while  she  rubbed  the 
tear  stains  away  with  the  edge  of  her 
skirt.  A  small  boy,  a  year  or  two 
younger  than  she,  was  coming  toward 
her,  piloting  a  man  with  grizzled  hair, 
who  was  smoking  a  little  black  pipe. 
The  two  were  followed  by  a  portly 
black  cocker  spaniel.  The  girl  raced 
over  the  rocks. 

"  Hello,  Mr.  McDonald,"  she  cried, 
"  where  did  you  come  from?  Where 
did  you  find  him,  Dick?" 

"He  walked  down,"  said  Dick, 
"and  I  saw  him  comin'  in  the  gate," 
and  he  swung  the  big  hand  he  was 
holding  with  vigour.  Donald  McDon- 
ald, the  old  engineer  of  the  Caribou 
Fire  Department,  used  to  walk  over  to 
North  Harbour  periodically  on  an  infor- 
mal visitto Aleck  Morrison's  lobsterfac- 


THE  GOOSANDER 


69 


tory.  When  he  came  the  children  knew 
there  was  sure  to  be  something'  interest- 
ing happen.  Donald  could  make  the 
most  wonderful  boats  with  stern  wheels, 
which  were  driven  by  rope  belts  and  a 
treadle  that  you  worked  with  your  feet. 
Once  he  came  down  on  Campbell's 
team  with  some  iron  bars  and  pieces 
of  brass,  and  in  a  few  days  had  turned 
a  leaky  dory  into  a  treadle  boat  with  a 
real  screw  propeller.  Donald's  most 
communicative  moments  were  while 
he  was  with  Aleck  Morrison's  two 
children,  and  then  he  was  nothing  less 
than  a  revelation  to  the  black  spaniel. 
On  this  particular  occasion  Donald 
smiled  his  most  ingenious  smile. 

"  A  joost  looked't  Conoondrum 
theyre,"  indicating  the  spaniel  with  a 
wave  of  the  three-inch  pipe,  *''n*  a 
thocht:  Weel,  y're  gettin'  so  fat  that  y' 
won't  ha'  hair  t'  coover  y're  skin  een  a 
leetle  while,  'n'  a'll  ha't  be  gettin'  old 
strips  o'  buffalo  robes  'n'  dyin'  them 
black  an'  cementin'  them  over  th'  theen 
places,  'n'  a  don't  know  that  a'd  make 
mooch  of  a  job  o'  ye  then.  So  a  joost 
thocht  a'd  walk  heem  doon  hear  for 
exercise,  y'see."  The  three  laughed, 
and  the  black  spaniel  took  the  joke 
pleasantly  and  wagged  his  tail. 

**  Ees  y're  father  better,  Maisie  ?" 
Donald  went  on. 

"  Some,"  said  the  girl.  Then  she 
remembered  her  troubles  again.  "But 
he  says  he's  goin'  to  sell  the  colt,  'n' 
he  won't  let  me  'n'  Dick  go  to  th'  circus 
in  New  Glasgow,  'n'  he  won't  let  me 
go  in  'n'  get  the  wool  to  knit  a  shawl 
for  Grandma's  birthday,  'n'  he  won't " 
— and  the  girl's  lip  trembled  again. 

"  Noo  y'  needn'  cry,'  said  Donald 
hastily,  "  a've  na  doot  we  can — " 

**  I  don't  care,  it's  my  colt  anyway; 
Papa  said  so  when  it  was  born,  'n' — " 
and  there  were  further  signs  of  a 
breakdown,  as  well  as  of  another  in 
sympathy  on  the  part  of  Dick.  Donald 
was  in  a  difficulty  for  a  moment. 

*' Y'  see,"  he  finally  said,  "y're 
father's  been  seeck  a  long  time,  'n'  he 
mayn'  be  sure  aboot  sellin'  th'  colt,  'n' 
y'  see  he  hasn'  had  a  chance  t'  get  t' 
th'  bank,  *n'  maybe  he  deedn'  ha'  th' 
money  fr  y'  t'  go  t'   N'  Glaisga.      Y' 


know,"  he  went  on  confidentially, 
"people  when  they're  seeck  often  get 
so  worrked  up  aboot  themsel's  thut 
they  never  theenk  o'  leetle  things. 
Here,  noo,  here's  five  dollars  for  the 
two  o'  y',  'n'  a'll  see  him  aboot  th'  colt, 
'n*  a've  got  a  gran'  plan  on  foot  thut 
when  y'  hear  aboot  't  y'  won't  want  t' 
go  t'  N'  Glaisga  or  ony where.  Y' 
musn'  tell  onyone  a  gave  y'  th'  five 
dollars."  The  lack  of  logical  sequence 
in  it  all  was  splendid,  but  it  had  the 
desired  effect.  Aleck  Morrison  had 
put  a  good  deal  of  money  into  addi- 
tions to  the  lobster  factory  and  into 
new  gear,  and  the  season  had  been 
poor.  .All  the  summer  he  had  been 
sick,  and  now  ought  to  be  well  on  the 
road  to  recovery.  But  he  didn't  seem 
to  mend  as  he  should,  and  Donald 
knew  that  worry  had  as  much  to  do 
with  it  as  anything  else.  His  wife 
thought  he  was  well  off,  and  the  chil- 
dren thought  him  rich,  and  so  it  might 
prove  ultimately;  but  now  things  were 
running  pretty  close,  and  the  proposed 
selling  of  the  colt  was,  in  all  probabil- 
ity, only  a  method  for  raising  a  neces- 
sary hundred  dollars  or  so  to  bridge 
over  the  hard  time.  Aleck  had  always 
said,  with  a  good  deal  of  pride,  that  he 
had  never  owed  a  man  a  cent  for  more 
than  two  weeks  in  his  life,  and  Donald 
knew  .Aleck,  and  knew  that  he  would 
object  to  breaking  his  record  now. 
.After  all,  two  or  three  hundred  dollars 
would  make  everything  easy  again. 

Maisie  had  brightened  up  wonder- 
fully, and  Dick  had  become  sympathet- 
ically cheerful. 

"Tell  us  what  y're  goin*  t'  do?"  he 
said.  Donald  made  up  the  trio  of 
smiles. 

"  Coom  up  'n'  we'll  see  y're  father 
firrst,"  he  said.  "  Thees  plan,"  he 
went  on.  as  they  started,  "  ees  a  great 
plan.  Eets  goin'  t'  beat  th'  dory  wi' 
th'  propellor  all  t'  pieces.  No,  y'll  joost 
wait!  Y'll  know  all  th're  ees  t'  know 
soon  enough."  Maisie  and  Dick  ran 
ahead,  and  left  Donald  and  the  black 
spaniel  to  follow  more  slowly.  They 
rushed  into  the  room  where  their 
father  was  sitting. 

"  Here's    Mr.     McDonald      comin', 


70 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


papa,  'n'  he's  goln'  t'  make  something 
new  for  us,  maybe  a  new  kind  of  a 
boat." 

"  He's  a  great  Donald!"  said  Aleck, 
half  to  himself.  "  He's  always  able  to 
keep  the  two  of  y'  quiet,  anyway. 

"Well,  Donald,  I'm  glad  to  see  y'. 
I  get  pretty  dull  sometimes.  Maisie 
says  you've  got  some  new  plan  on 
hand.  What  are  y'  goin'  t'  make 
now — a  real  steamboat,  I  suppose  ?" 
Donald  got  comfortably  settled,  with 
the  girl  on  his  right  knee  and  the  boy 
on  his  left.  He  stowed  the  black  pipe 
in  a  pocket  reserved  for  it  alone. 

"A  want  y'  t'  lend  me  th'  Goos- 
anderr  he  said  solemnly.  It  may  be 
explained  that  theGt?o^a«fl^erwasalong, 
black  launch  that  Aleck  had  bought 
two  years  before  from  the  Dominion 
Government  for  use  in  towing  out 
loads  of  traps  and  for  general  service 
about  the  factory.  The  Government 
had  used  her  as  an  auxiliary  to  their 
revenue  boats,  in  preventing  smug- 
gling from  St.  Pierre  and  Miquelon, 
but  she  was  not  well  adapted  to 
their  purposes  and  they  had  disposed 
of  her. 

"The  Goosanderr  said  Aleck,  with 
a  look  of  surprise,  "yes,  y'  can 
have  her  and  the  whole  factory  if  y' 
like.  But  what  are  y'  goin'  to  do 
with  her?"  Donald  drew  forth  from 
his  pocket  a  copy  of  the  Caribou  Cour- 
ier^ and  pointed  to  a  paragraph. 
Aleck  read  as  follows: — 

"  Owing  to  a  discussion  as  to  the 
relative  speed  of  certain  steam  yachts 
which  has  arisen  among  a  number  of 
the  wealthy  Toronto  and  Montreal 
men  who  are  summering  on  the  Island, 
Mr.  Montgomery  Paul,  the  owner  of 
the  splendid  yacht  Niobe^  has  gener- 
ously put  up  a  thousand  dollars  to  be 
raced  for  by  steamers  of  any  type  up 
to  seventy-five  feet  over  all.  Entries 
are  confined  to  boats  owned  by  sum- 
mer or  other  residents  of  the  Maritime 
Provinces.  The  course  is  to  be  from 
Charlottetown  to  Caribou,  and  the 
date,  weather  permitting,  September 
12."  The  paragraph  gave  various 
other  details,  and  ended  with  the  as- 
sertion that  the  proposed  race  was  al- 


ready exciting  great   interest.     Aleck 
finished  and  looked  at  Donald. 

"V  don't  mean  to  say  that  y'  want 
to  go  into  that  with  the  Goosanderr  he 
said. 

"  O'  coorse  a  do!"  was  the  reply; 
"  a'm  needin'  soom  recreation  'n'  a 
dare  say  y'll  be  able  t'  fin'  soom  use  for 
th'  thoosan'  dollars." 

"Yes,  we  could  find  plenty  of  use 
for  a  thousand  dollars  if  we  got  it, 
though  y'  would  have  to  take  the  half 
of  it.  But  there's  not  much  danger  of 
gettin'  it.  The  Goosander  would  be 
somewhere  oflF  here  when  those  fel- 
lows got  in.  They've  got  some  fine 
boats  over  there  now:  boats  they've 
brought  down  from  Upper  Canada." 

"Aye!"  said  Donald,  "so  a've 
heard.  Maybe  a'll  go  ofer  'n'  see 
them,  Howefer,  eef  y'  theenk  we'll 
not  get  th'  thoosan'  y'  needn't  mind 
sayin'  y'll  tak'  't  eef  we  do.  A  don't 
want  th' money,  y'  know;  a'll  get  more 
th'n  a  thoosan's  worth  o'  recreation 
oot  o'  th'  beezness;  so  between  us 
we'll  be  makin'  a  clear  two  thoosan'," 
and  Donald  smiled.  Aleck  grinned  at 
the  argument,  and  submitted  the  more 
readily  because  his  faith  in  the  Goos- 
sander's  chances  was  exceedingly  small. 
Donald  thought  a  moment. 

"Aleck,"  he  said,  "  d'y'  know 
wheyre  a  cud  buy  a  nice  young  horse?" 
Maisie's  eyes  had  been  sparkling  at  the 
thought  of  the  Goosander  racing  the 
yachts  across  the  Strait;  now  she  be- 
came very  solemn,  and  flashed  a  be- 
wildered glance  at  the  old  engineer. 
She  felt  the  big  hand  tighten  for  an  in- 
stant on  her  shoulder,  and  knew  that 
in  some  inscrutable  way  it  was  all  right. 
Aleck  was  silent,  and  looked  doubt- 
fully at  Maisie.  He  was  surprised  to 
see  that  young  lady  very  cheerful. 

' '  What  do  you  want  with  a  horse?  " 
he  said. 

"What  a  wanted  t'  know  wiz 
wheyre  a  cood  get  one,"  was  the  re- 
ply. Aleck  knew  it  was  no  use  to  ask 
for  further  information.     He  hesitated. 

"  I've  got  a  fine  colt  that  might  suit 
y',"  he  said  finally;  "  Maisie,  y'  bring 
the  colt  round,  like  a  good  girl." 

Still  more  to  his  surprise  Maisie  ran 


THE  GOOSANDER 


7» 


off  willingly  enough,  accompanied  by 
the  boy,  and  in  five  minutes  the  colt 
was  at  the  door.  Donald  made  a  crit- 
ical examination  of  him,  and  finally 
offered  a  hundred  and  twenty-five  dol- 
lars, which  was  promptly  accepted. 
He  wrote  a  cheque  and  handed  it  to 
Aleck. 

"Theyre!"he  said,  *'  Noo,  a'mgoin' 
doon  t'  look  ofer  th'  Goosander:  coom 
on,  Dickie.  A'll  be  up  t'  dinner,  Aleck," 
and  the  three  started  for  the  shore, 
leaving  Aleck  Morrison  surprised,  but 
more  comfortable  than  he  had  been  for 
some  time.  They  had  not  gone  far 
when  Maisie  looked  up  inquisitively  at 
Donald,  who  smiled. 

"A  suppose  y'  want  t'  know  aboot 
th'  colt,"  he  said;  *'  weel,  a'll  joost  be 
needin'  a  horse  for  a  leetle,  'n'  'ts  fery 
likely  a'll  be  willin'  t'  sell  een  a  month 
or  two — 'n'  y'  may  be  wantin'  t'  buy 
one  yersel'  aboot  thut  time.  V"  never 
can  tell  what  will  happen.  K — a  tak' 
fery  good  care  o'  my  horses,"  he  added, 
as  he  got  the  black  pipe  underway 
again.  Maisie  laughed  and  was  satis- 
fied, and,  of  necessity,  Dick  was  satis- 
fied, too. 

The  Goosander  lay  at  the  wharf  be- 
low the  factory.  As  has  been  re- 
corded, she  was  once  the  property  of 
the  Dominion  Government,  and  for  a 
number  of  years  she  had  come  and 
gone  by  night,  and  had  hung  just  over 
the  edge  of  fog  banks,  and  had  trav- 
elled betimes  without  lights,  and  had 
escorted  one  or  two  brigs  and  several 
small,  slippery-looking  schooners  into 
Sydney  or  some  other  port,  and  had 
lain  still  amid  the  sound  of  axes  on 
full  casks,  and  had  floated  in  a  sea  that 
reeked  of  Cognac.  In  those  days 
many  a  good,  fast  fore-and-after  knew 
that  she  was  not  to  be  despised.  But 
she  had  too  little  freeboard  and  she 
was  too  fine,  lacked  the  beam  that 
makes  a  good  sea  boat,  and  the  Gov- 
ernment had  finally  sold  her  to  .Aleck 
Morrison.  The  Goosander  had  never 
been  beautiful,  and  Aleck  had  added  to 
her  freeboard  by  putting  a  gunwale 
plank  all  round  her.  The  gunwale 
plank  made  her  too  high,  and  took 
away  all   the  torpedo-boat  appearance 


she  formerly  had.  Then  it  had  not 
been  put  on  very  artistically,  and  had 
left  her  with  a  magnified  sheer,  so  that 
she  didn't  look  unlike  a  gigantic  dory. 
.Aleck  finished  by  painting  her  black. 
Altogether,  the  effect  was  not  pleasing. 
She  had  a  fine,  steeple-compound  en- 
gine and  a  new  boiler  that  Aleck  had 
put  in  under  Donald's  advice  shortly 
after  he  got  her.  Donald  had  often 
cruised  in  her,  and  had  apparently  a 
vast  belief  in  her  capabilities.  "A'd 
like  t'  ha'  her  for  aboot  a  week!"  he 
often  said,  "a'd  show  y'  what  she  cud 
do.  All  she'd  need'd  be  t'  get  a  string 
o'  kelp  tangled  up  een  her  rudder  for  a 
tail  'n'  they'd  theenk  'twas  th'  Great 
Sea-Serpent  coomin'. " 

Just  at  present  she  looked  particu- 
larly disreputable.  Below  the  water- 
line  she  was  grown  over  with  weed; 
her  black  paint  was  blistered  and 
peeled;  her  gunwale  was  split  and 
splintered  in  many  places  along  its 
fifty-seven  feet  of  length;  the  engine 
was  covered  with  a  scant,  dirty 
tarpaulin,  and  the  boiler  and  long 
funnel  were  streaked  with  yellow  rust. 
Maisie  and  Dick  went  out  to  the  end 
of  the  wharf  to  spear  flounders,  the 
black  spaniel  retired  to  the  shore  and 
found  a  shady  spot  under  a  bush,  and 
Donald  climbed  aboard  the  Goosander. 
He  looked  over  her  slowly,  then  lifted 
up  a  hatch  over  the  shaft  and  sniffed  at 
the  oily,  iridescent,  black  water  that 
was  sluicing  about  with  the  slight 
motion  of  the  boat. 

"Y^'  dirrty,  deesgraceful  old  hoolk  ! 
Y'  shood  be  ashamed  o'  yersel'  for  not 
keepin'  yersel'  clean.  Beelge  water  ! 
Beelge  water  !  V  can't  help  havin'  a 
leetle,  but  no  self  respectin'  steamer 
allows't  to  accumulate  like  thut  !" 
After  this  rebuke  the  old  engineer 
rummaged  around  for  pieces  of  oily 
waste  and  kindlings  and  soon  had  a 
fire  underway.  Then  he  opened  up 
the  lockers  and  got  out  hammers  and 
monkey  wrenches  and  spanners  and 
oil  cans  and  boxes  of  packing  and  laid 
them  all  in  order.  While  the  steam 
was  getting  up  he  swept  her  from  stem 
to  stern.  He  caught  the  sound  of  a 
slight  hiss.      "Pop  valve  leakin'  !"  h^ 


72 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


commented,  and  made  a  mental  note. 
"Aye,  'n'  a  try  cock,  too."  He  swung 
his  weight  on  each  of  the  eccentric 
rods,  and  felt  a  hardly  noticeable  jar. 
"Pairfectly  deesgraceful  !"  he  said. 
"Aye,  nuts  on  th'  straps  loose."  He 
studied  the  inside  of  the  fire-box. 
"Tubes  tight;  thut's  good,  disteenctly 
good  !"  A  little  later  he  examined  the 
gauge.  "Seventy  poon."  He  opened 
the  throttle  and  immediately  closed  it 
again.  "Not  packin'  enough  een  th' 
three  boxes  for  one.  Magneeficent 
gland  !"  and  he  began  measuring  and 
cutting,  packing  and  sliding  it  into 
inaccessible  places  with  a  jack  knife. 
Bye  and  bye  he  looked  to  his  moor- 
ings and  opened  the  throttle  again. 
Bump-siss-bump-siss-bump-siss  went  the 
Goosander^ s  engine,  with  a  lot  of  little 
psp-clicks  in  between,  which,  to  the 
uninitiated,  mean  nothing.  Donald 
turned  on  the  bilge  water  ejector  and 
sat  down  to  listen.  For  a  diagnosis 
his  ear  was  as  good  as  an  indicator 
any  day.  It  came  in  muttered  com- 
ments. "Low  press'  valve  set  too 
high — cut  off  too  late — guides  bindin' 
a  leetle — th'  cross-head  soonds  like  a 
wire  nail  machine — a  cood  leeft  out 
thut  crank  pin,"  and  he  aimed  a 
dexterous  blow  at  it  as  it  flashed  past. 
"Weel,  een  coomparison  wi'  soom  o' 
them  y're  not  bad  !  A'd  like  a  leetle 
more  vacuum,  tho',  eef  a  cood  get  't. 
Howefer,  a'm  not  goin'  t'  poot  a 
surface  condenser  'n'  a  circulatin' 
poomp  'n'  an  air  poomp  een  y'  for  't." 
So  the  comments  went  on  until  he  drew 
the  fire,  and  a  little  later  there  were 
rods  and  bolts  and  nuts  and  valves 
lying  about  on  all  the  lockers,  and  the 
Goosander's  engine  was  an  apparent 
wreck.  In  the  midst  of  the  wreck, 
filing  and  hammering  and  fitting  and 
testing,  sat  Donald  McDonald,  late 
engineer  of  the  MacMichael  boat 
Dungeness,  the  craft  which,  for  some 
mysterious  reason,  used  to  do  twelve 
knots  while  he  was  in  her,  and  never 
before  or  since. 

When  the  time  came  Donald  went 
up  to  the  house  to  dinner,  during 
which  meal  he  was  uncommunicative. 
Immediately  after  dinner  he  went  back 


to  the  Goosander  and  worked  until  they 
blew  the  horn  for  supper.  Again  after 
supper  he  went  back  and  worked  until 
darkness  came  down.  After  the 
children  went  up  to  bed  the  black 
spaniel  came  aboard  for  company,  and 
Donald  lighted  a  lantern  and  kept  at  it. 
When  Aleck  went  to  bed  about  eleven 
he  could  see  the  faint  light  down  by  the 
wharf  and  hear  the  sound  of  hammer- 
ing of  steel  on  steel  coming  up  on  the 
quiet  night  air.  He  knew  that  it  was 
useless  to  interfere.  Donald  knew 
where  to  find  his  bed,  and  when  he 
was  ready  he  would  come  to  it,  and 
not  befoie.  The  fact  that  the  bed  bore 
marks  of  having  been  slept  in  was  the 
only  evidence  that  he  had  been  near  the 
house  during  the  night.  No  one  heard 
him  come  in,  and  when  Aleck  first 
looked  out  in  the  morning,  when  the 
sun  was  coming  up  over  the  Gulf,  the 
old  engineer  was  aboard  the  Goosander, 
smoking  like  a  locomotive  and  still 
hammering,  and  the  spaniel  was  slum- 
bering on  his  jacket  on  the  wharf. 

That  day  Donald  worked  steadily; 
and  again  brought  the  lantern  into  use 
and  knocked  off  at  midnight.  The 
following  day  by  eleven  o'clock  he  had 
the  engine  assembled  again.  He  filled 
the  boiler  and  started  a  fire.  When 
the  steam  was  up  and  he  of?ened  the 
throttle  it  was  easy  to  see  that  the 
Goosander's  engine  had  seen  magic. 
The  piston  rod  glided  up  and  down 
noiselessly;  not  a  breath  of  steam 
showed  anywhere;  and  never  a  hiss  or 
a  sigh  could  be  heard;  the  eccentrics 
slid  around,  oil-bathed  in  the  straps, 
and  the  straps  never  varied  the  width 
of  a  hair;  and  the  cross-head  and 
crank,  no  matter  how  fast  they  were 
swung,  were  perfectly  silent. 

Then  Donald  cast  off  the  Goosanders. 
moorings  and  started  out  into  the 
harbour  alone,  and  the  way  the 
Goosander  ploughed  up  and  down 
North  Harbour  astonished  the  inhab- 
itants of  the  surrounding  country. 
Aleck  watched  through  the  glass  and 
could  see  the  old  man  studying  his 
watch  while  he  raced  back  and  forward 
between  the  buoys.  After  a  little 
while  he  came  into  the  wharf,  tied  upv 


THE  GOOSANDER 


73 


drew  the  fire,  covered  the  engine, 
and  came  ashore  to  dinner.  Dur- 
ing the  progress  of  the  meal  he  spoke 
very  seldom,  and  then  his  remarks 
referred  chiefly  to  smelt  fishing,  to  an 
incident  that  occurred  on  the  Dun- 
geness,  and  to  the  probable  weather. 
On  the  last  subject  he  was  noncom- 
mittal. After  dinner  he  departed, 
leading  the  colt  and  followed  by  the 
black  spaniel,  and  said  that  he  would 
be  back  in  a  day  or  two. 

Late  that  afternoon  he  took  the 
Island  boat,  and  that  evening  he 
stepped  ashore  at  Charlottetown.  The 
next  day  was  devoted  to  research. 
He  wandered  about  the  wharves  and 
got  various  and  unreliable  opinions  as 
to  the  capabilities  of  the  Mermaid  and 
the  Niobe  and  other  boats  in  the  vicin- 
ity. His  only  generalisation  from  the 
information  he  gathered  was  that  the 
Niobe  was  the  best  of  them  all.  Then 
he  went  to  headquarters  for  fuller  de- 
tails. He  got  a  small  boat  and  rowed 
down  slowly  past  Mr.  Paul's  bunga- 
low. The  Niobe  was  at  anchor,  and 
Mr.  Paul  was  aboard,  pottering  about 
and  offering  advice  to  his  engineer. 
Donald  stopped  rowing  and  cast  a 
glance  of  evident  admiration  at  the 
steam  yacht.  Incidentally,  the  admir- 
ation was  perfectly  sincere.  The  bait 
was  too  seductive  to  Mr.  Paul,  who 
liked  to  dissertate  on  the  Niobe,  and 
was  fond  of  a  new  and  sympathetic 
audience. 

"  F'ine  day!"  he  remarked,  *'  having 
a  look  at  the  boat  ?" 

".Aye!"  said  Donald,  ingenuously, 
"  she's  a  gran'  craft." 

*•  One  of  the  finest!  one  of  the  very 
best!  Would  you  like  to  come  aboard?" 
Donald  accepted  with  apparent  reluct- 
ance. 

"That's  right.  Come  right  up  here. 
1  suppose  you  belong  about  here  ? 
Other  shore.      Do  you  fish  ?" 

"  A  've  feeshed  a  little— Weel!  This 
ees  a  magneeficent  boat.  A'd  think  't 
'd  be  deeficult  t'  keep  all  th'  brass 
clean.  She's  beautifully  feeted  up — A 
— does  she  burrn  wood  or  coal?"  The 
question  was  uttered  with  the  inno- 
cence of  a  little  child. 


"Coal,"  was  the  reply,  "all  these 
steamers  burn  coal,  you  know.  Don't 
know  whether  you'd  like  to  see  the 
engine  or  not.  It's  down  here." 
Donald  signified  his  willingness,  and 
Mr.  Paul  proceeded  to  dilate  on  ma- 
chinery in  general,  in  passing  mention- 
ing the  fact  that  the  Niobe's  boiler  was 
so  strong  that  it  stood  the  strain  when 
the  steam  inside  pressed  190  pounds 
on  every  square  inch  of  it,  that  that 
type  of  engine  was  called  a  triple  ex- 
pansion engine  for  various  complicated 
reasons,  and  that  it  had  driven  the 
boat  seventeen  measured  miles  in  one 
hour.  Donald  asked  if  the  seventeen 
miles  would  be  considered  fast,  and 
Mr.  Paul  answered  **  Very.  Faster, 
in  fact,  than  any  other  boat  of  the  size- 
in  Canada  can  do."  Donald  said  "Na 
doot "  with  perfect  sincerity,  adding:: 
"  .A'd  like  t'  see  her  goin'  t'  full  speed." 
Mr.  Paul  appreciated  the  interest. 

"  I  was  just  getting  up  steam  to 
take  her  out  when  you  came  along. 
She'll  be  ready  in  a  few  minutes  now. 
If  you're  not  in  a  hurry  perhaps  you'd 
like  to  have  a  turn  in  her."  "  A'd  be 
fery  glad,"  was  the  reply. 

"  Have  a  cigar?"  said  Mr.  Paul. 

"No,  thank  y' ;  a'll  joost  smoke 
thees,"  and  he  produced  the  black  pipe. 
A  little  while  later  Donald's  boat  was 
tied  to  Mr.  Paul's  wharf  and  the  Niobe 
was  steaming  out  toward  Charlotte- 
town  Light.  At  the  light  her  engineer 
opened  her  up  and  she  came  in  at  full 
speed,  while  Donald  sat  by  the  wheel 
with  Mr.  Paul  and  marvelled.  Several 
times  he  seemed  to  have  difficulty  in 
getting  the  black  pipe  going  properly, 
and  had  to  resort  to  holding  his  coat 
over  it.  A  close  observer  would  have 
noted  that  he  surreptitiously  looked  at 
his  watch  on  each  occasion.  When 
they  got  back  and  Mr.  Paul  had  been 
duly  thanked,  he  asked  Donald  if  he 
expected  to  be  in  Caribou  on  Septem- 
ber 12. 

"A  hope  t*  be  theyre  parrt  o'  th' 
day,"  was  the  reply. 

"The  reason  I  asked,"  said  Mr. 
Paul,  "is  that  we're  going  to  have  a 
steam  yacht  race  from  here  to  Caribou. 
I  thought  you   might  like   to   see  this 


74 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


boat  when  she's  at  her  best.  You 
ought  to  be  there  in  time  to  see  the 
finish." 

"  A'd  like  t',"  said  Donald,  "  a'll  try 
t'  be  theyre  een  time.  A'm  sure  a'm 
mooch  obliged  t'  y',"  and  he  climbed 
into  the  little  boat  and  rowed  away 
toward  Charlottetown. 

"That's  a  queer  old  cuss,"  said  Mr. 
Paul  to  the  engineer.  The  engineer 
admitted  that  he  seemed  to  be. 

As  Donald  tied  up  his  boat  he  smiled 
drily.  "Seventeen  mile,"  he  mur- 
mured; "  more  like  thirteen,  a  theenk. 
Howefer,  a'll  soon  see."  He  went  up 
to  the  nearest  bookstore  and  bought  a 
chart  of  Charlottetown  Harbour.  Then 
he  went  back  to  the  wharf  and  sat 
down  to  it  with  a  pencil  and  a  foot 
rule.  When  he  had  finished  he  began 
smoking  with  unusual  vigour. 

"Good!  fery  good!"  came  between 
puffs.  "  Better  than  a  thocht.  She's 
not  so  bad,th'iVz(9(^^,"  and  he  smiled.  As 
he  spoke  there  came  over  him  an  almost 
imperceptible  change.  Perhaps  only 
those  who  had  been  with  him  in  the 
Dungeness,  or  those  who  had  stood  be- 
side him  on  the  night  he  screwed  down 
the  pop- valve  of  the  old  "Ronald" 
fire  engine  and  spoiled  the  reputation 
of  the  new  double-cylindered  machine, 
or  those  who  had  seen  him  work  in  the 
number  six  compartment  or  at  the 
centrifugal  pumps  of  the  Shannon  be- 
fore she  sank,  would  have  been  able  to 
interpret  the  meaning  of  the  change. 
To  the  uninitiated  it  was  only  that  his 
smile  was  a  little  more  bland  than 
common.  But  the  light  of  battle  was 
in  his  eye.  As  usual,  when  the  odds 
against  him  suddenly  loomed  up  heavier 
than  he  expected,  he  became  more  im- 
perturbable than  ever. 

He  went  back  to  Caribou  by  the 
next  boat,  and  on  the  following  after- 
noon appeared  at  North  Harbour.  He 
was  exceedingly  uncommunicative, 
stating  merely  that  he  had  "been  doin' 
a  leetle  explorin'."  He  got  a  fire 
going  in  the  Goosander  as  soon  as 
possible,  and  started  out  into  the  har- 
bour again  to  race  against  time  between 
the  buoys.  When  he  .came  back  he 
told  the  black  spaniel,  and  him  alone, 


that  the  trial  was  not  satisfactory. 
The  rest  of  the  morning  he  spent  in 
making  all  sorts  of  measurements  of 
the  old  boat,  and  in  figuring  and  mak- 
ing complicated  drawings  on  a  piece 
of  planed  pine  board.  At  dinner  he 
said  he  was  going  away  in  the  Goosan- 
der for  a  few  days,  and  about  three  he 
took  the  black  spaniel  aboard,  cast  off 
his  moorings,  hauled  on  his  wheel- 
ropes  until  his  tiller  was  hard-a-port, 
threw  open  his  throttle,  and  the 
Goosander  boiled  out  through  the  little 
entrance  into  the  Strait.  He  turned 
once  and  waved  his  cap  to  the  chil- 
dren. The  last  they  saw  of  him  the 
Goosander  was  heading  south  and  he 
was  sitting  motionless  in  the  stern. 

Four  days  passed  without  a  sign  of 
Donald;  but  on  the  fifth  morning  the 
black  launch  appeared  around  the 
point  of  the  Little  Island  and  came  in 
through  the  Wide  Entrance.  In  her 
there  were  four  men  instead  of  one, 
and  over  her  gunwale  protruded  vari- 
ous things,  including,  apparently,  a 
good  deal  of  dimension  lumber.  That 
morning  Aleck  had  managed  to  walk 
down  to  the  wharf,  and  he  gasped  with 
amazement  as  the  Goosander  tied  up. 

"  Hello,  Jim  Mclntyre,"  he  said, 
"have  you  come  too?  Donald,  for 
heaven's  sake,  what  have  y'  got  there? 
It  looks  as  if  you'd  been  robbin'  a  junk 
heap."    Donald  grinned. 

"  Y'  look  as  eef  y'  were  feelin'  bet- 
ter," he  said,  irrelevently.  "A'm  glad 
o'  thut."  He  surveyed  the  load  with 
complacency.  "  .A've  brought  Mcln- 
tyre 'n'  Carswell  'n'  Beely  Dunn,"  he 
went  on,  "  'n'  we're  goin'  t'  make 
soom  leetle  temporary  alterations  een 
th'  Goosander.'^  Aleck  was  speechless 
for  some  time  while  he  carefully  looked 
over  the  collection. 

"  It  looks  as  if  y'  were  goin'  to  make 
something,"  he  said  finally.  The  re- 
mark was  quite  justifiable.  It  may  be 
said  that  the  Goosander's  boiler  and 
engine  were  compact,  and  there  was 
plenty  of  room  fore  and  aft  of  them. 
At  present  in  forward,  and  lying  on  its 
side,  was  a  very  short,  very  stout  and 
apparently  very  rusty  upright  boiler. 
Beside  it  lay  a  firebox,  equally  rusty, 


THE  GOOSANDER 


75 


which  had  evidently  been  built  for  a 
boiler  of  larger  size.  There  was  also 
a  great  variety  of  old  iron  tyres  off 
cart  and  waggon  wheels  of  all  sizes, 
together  with  a  full  thousand  feet  of 
iron  wire  off  hay  bales,  and  perhaps  a 
thousand  superficial  feet  of  spruce 
boards.  In  aft  there  was  a  long- 
cylindered,  deliberate  looking  old  hori- 
zontal engine,  which  bore  the  marks 
of  having  already  accomplished  a  life- 
work.  Donald  confessed  later  that  it 
had  spent  twenty-two  years  in  a  sash 
and  door  factory.  Then  over  the  Goo- 
sander s  stern  there  projected  a  bat- 
tered, rust-pitted  funnel,  a  dozen  feet 
in  length.  Besides  these  things  there 
were  boxes  containing  innumerable 
bolts  and  spikes  and  staples  and  nails; 
a  long,  new,  somewhat  ponderous  bit 
of  shafting,  with  a  double  crank;  most 
of  the  portable  tools  from  Donald's 
little  machine  shop,  and  a  great  un- 
classified residuum,  which  to  a  less 
ingenious  mind  than  Donald's  would 
have  been  nothing  more  than  what 
Aleck  called  it — junk.  Aleck  h.id  been 
studying  the  load  carefully. 

"  Look  here,"  he  finally  said,  "what 
are  y'  goin'  to  build,  anyway  ?"  Donald 
smiled. 

"  A'm  goin'  t'  beeld  what  y'  might 
call  'n  accelerator,"  he  said. 

"  And  what's  an  accelerator?" 

"Thut's  what  a'm  goin'  t'  beeld!" 
was  the  reply,  and  there  the  conversa- 
tion stayed. 

Ten  minutes  later  the  old  man  and 
his  crew  had  brought  down  a  couple  of 
piles,  and  were  erecting  them  as  shears 
over  the  Goosander  as  she  lay  at  the 
wharf.  The  spaniel  viewed  the  opera- 
tions from  a  distance  and  inferred  some 
permajiency;  so  he  retired  to  his  bush 
and  slumbered.  With  tackle  rigged 
to  the  shears  the  ancient  boiler  and 
engine  were  hoisted  on  to  the  wharf 
along  with  the  rest  of  the  "junk." 
Then  ways  were  laid  and  the  Goosander 
was  hauled  up  ready  for  operations  to 
begin.  Her  bottom  was  cleaned  and 
painted  with  copper  paint  until  it 
looked  as  in  the  days  of  her  youth.  At 
supper  the  "accelerator"  was  dis- 
cussed at  some  length,  but  as  neither 


Mclntyre  nor  Carswell  nor  Billy  Dunn 
seemed  at  all  certain  as  to  its  precise 
construction,  and  Donald  refused  to 
give  any  further  details,  the  result  was 
not  satisfactory.  The  next  day  two 
timber  bases  were  built  in  the  Goosan- 
der, one  forward  of  her  machinery  and 
one  aft,  and  in  the  former  was  set  the 
newly  acquired  lire-box.  Donald's 
plan  was  unfolding.  Now  there  began, 
along  lines  new  to  marine  engineering, 
the  construction  of  a  pair  of  remark- 
able paddle  wheels.  Both  in  diameter 
and  in  width  their  size  was  consider- 
able, but  their  chief  glory  lay  in  their 
strength.  Their  construction  occupied 
nearly  ten  days,  and  would  be  extremely 
difficult  to  describe.  It  is  sufficient 
to  say  that,  in  the  end,  if  analysed  and 
their  component  parts  traced,  they 
would  be  found  to  embody  portions  of 
the  following:  three  derelict  wind-mills, 
a  worn-out  mine-ventilating  fan,  and  a 
cotton  loom,  together  with  practically 
all  the  spikes,  staples,  bolts,  iron  tyres 
and  wire  before  mentioned,  and  a 
goodly  part  of  the  unclassified  junk 
and  the  spruce  boards.  During  their 
building  Maisie  and  Dick  watched 
every  movement,  and  would  stay  until 
Donald  and  the  others  knocked  off  in 
the  evening. 

Finally  the  Goosander  was  launched 
again.  The  long  shaft  was  fitted  into 
the  old  horizontal  engine,  which  was 
swung  aboard  and  bolted  down  to  the 
base.  Great  bearings  were  bolted  to 
the  gunwale,  and  the  paddles  were 
slid  into  place  and  keyed.  The  short 
boiler  was  dropped  on  to  the  fire-box, 
and  stayed  with  a  forest  of  iron  wires 
and  a  few  lengths  of  chain.  Then 
came  the  fitting  and  connecting  up  of 
the  new  main  steam  pipe,  and  the  set- 
ting up  and  guying  of  the  twelve-foot 
funnel,  and  the  Goosander  was  com- 
plete. 

The  result  was  somewhat  incongru- 
ous. When  Donald  had  tightened  the 
last  nut  he  walked  along  the  beach  for 
fifty  yards  or  so  and  sat  down  on  a 
rock  to  look  at  her.  When  he  came 
back  he  said:  "  What  a  ha'  been  tryin' 
to  fin'  oot  wiz  whayther  she  looked 
more  like  a  paddle  boat  wi'   a    screw, 


76 


THE  CA  NA  DIA  N  MA  GA  ZINE 


oor  a  screw  boat  wi'  paddles.  We'll 
ha'  t'  get  a  fire  een  th'  two  booylers  'n' 
see  what  she'll  do."  So  they  filled  the 
boilers  and  started  the  fires,  while 
Donald  reached  into  inaccessible  places 
with  a  long-nosed  oil  can  and  drowned 
all  the  new  bearings  with  oil.  In  a  few 
minutes  the  steam  began  to  show  in 
the  gauges.     The  old  man  smiled. 

"  Mclntyre,"  he  said,  "  y'  can  fire 
th'  fore  booyler  'n'  look  after  th'  wheel; 
Beely,  y'  can  fire  th'  aft  booyler;  Cars- 
well,  y'  tak'  th'  screw  engine,  'n'  a'll 
look  after  th'  paddle  engine  mysel.' 
Bein'  unaccoostomed  t'  th'  worrk  eet 
may  ha'  soom  leetle  peculiarities." 
Aleck  came  down  and  sat  on  the 
wharf  with  Maisie  and  Dick  to  see  the 
start.  The  black  spaniel  thought  over 
the  matter  and  decided  to  superintend 
in  person,  so  he  went  aboard  and  sat 
in  the  stern  with  Donald.  Carswell 
looked  at  his  gauge. 

"  I've  got  a  hundred  and  sixty,"  he 
said,  "  what  have  you  got,  Jim  ?" 

♦'Hundred  and  thirty!" 

"  Y'  might  cast  off  that  line,  Beely," 
said  Donald.  In  a  moment  the  Goos- 
ander was  floating  free.  Carswell 
swung  over  his  lever  and  opened  his 
throttle.  There  was  a  swirl  under  the 
stern  and  the  ripples  clacked  against 
the  bow.  The  paddle  wheels  stirred 
uneasily.  Maisie  danced  up  and  down 
on  the  wharf,  and  Dick  shouted: 
"  Look,  Pop,  she's  goin'!"  Donald 
opened  his  cylinder  cocks  and  started 
his  throttle,  and  the  long-cylindered 
engine  heaved  a  profound  sigh,  splut- 
tered out  a  stream  of  mixed  steam  and 
water,  and  started.  "  Pap — pap — pap- 
pap-pap-pap-pa-papapapapa  "  went  the 
floats  of  the  paddles,  as  Donald 
opened  the  throttle  wider,  and  the 
Goosander  gathered  way  and  moved 
majestically  out  into  the  harbour. 
Mclntyre  brought  her  round  until  she 
was  broadside  to  the  wharf,  and  they 


stopped  her  for  Aleck  to  inspect.  It 
was  the  first  time  he  had  had  a  good 
look  at  her  since  the  transformation. 
He  was  immediately  seized  with  a  con- 
vulsion of  unseemly  merriment,  and  lay 
on  the  wharf  with  his  knees  drawn  up 
and  laughed  until  he  was  red  in  the  face. 
"Take  her  away!"  he  gasped,  "she 
looks  like  a  suction  dredge.  Say, 
Donald  y'  want  to  be  careful  not  to  get 
the  two  engines  goin'  opposite  ways  or 
Dick  and  Maisie  '11  have  to  take  the 
dory  out  after  y*.  If  y'  want  anymore 
funnels  on  her  I've  got  a  lot  of  old 
stove-pipe  up  at  the  house.  Go  ahead 
and  let's  see  if  y'  can  make  the  new 
wheels  go  round."  Donald  suddenly- 
opened  her  up.  The  long-cylindered 
engine  evidently  looked  upon  Aleck's 
remarks  as  personal,  and  the  way  it 
handled  the  new  wheels  was  a  sight  to 
see.  There  was  a  tremble,  a  roar  as 
of  the  noise  of  many  waters,  a  rush  of 
toam,  and  a  great  cloud  of  flying  spray 
that  enveloped  Donald  and  the  sterr^ 
of  the  Goosander,  and  caused  the  black 
spaniel  to  sneeze  violently  and  finally 
to  crawl  into  an  open  locker,  where  he 
remained  during  the  rest  of  the  voyage. 
Aleck  expressed  his  satisfaction.  Cars- 
well  opened  up,  and  the  Goosander 
boiled  off  towards  the  buoys  on  Don- 
ald's trial  course,  leaving  a  wake  like 
a  Fall  River  boat.  Mclntyre  kept 
urging  his  fire,  and  for  an  hour  they 
ran  back  and  forward  from  buoy  to 
buoy  while  Donald  studied  his  watch. 
When  they  got  ashore  he  said  he  was 
pleased,  and  spent  the  rest  of  the  after- 
noon wrapping  pieces  of  old  carpet 
and  jute  bags  around  the  whole  length 
of  the  new  main  steam  pipe  "  t' prre- 
vent  excessive  coondensation."  He 
finished  the  dressing  with  a  coat  of 
marine  glue,  and  from  that  time  for- 
ward, wherever  the  Goosander  was, 
that  steam  pipe  was  a  notable  object  in 
the  landscape. 


TO   BE   CONCLUDED    NEXT  MONTH 


\^rrAN 


^PHtRL 


Wir,-:>-;.:'< 


M  .    M  a.  c  I^ 


H,<1  i   t   e  d 
ElA  IS/      H 


E^UI^ 


w 


OMEN  do  not  attack  men's  will. 
They  throw  spells  over  their  judfjfment. 
—Amelia  Barr. 

Give  most  men  a  good  listener  and  most 
women  enough  note-paper  and  they'll  tell  all 
they  know. — George  Larimer. 


THE  discussion  over  the  influence  of 
books  still  waxes  more  or  less 
(and  more  often  less)  merrily  on. 
There  is  something,  of  course,  to  be 
said  on  both  sides,  but  most  of  us  will 
stand  by  one  of  our  sex,  Miss  Agnes 
Repplier,  in  the  views  set  forth  in  her 
recently  published  book  of  essays, 
"Compromises."  In  attacking  the 
seemingly  prevalent  belief  that  books 
have  a  controlling — in  fact,  the  con- 
trolling influence  in  the  lives  of  our 
young  people,  she  takes  as  a  text  Car- 
lyle's  acid  sentence:  *'  Not  the  wretch- 
edest  circulating  library  novel  which 
foolish  girls  thumb  and  con  in  remote 
villages  but  will  help  to  regulate  the 
actual  practical  weddings  and  house- 
holds of  these  foolish  girls."  She  an- 
wers  sternly:  *'  More  than  this  itwould 
be  impossible  to  say,  and  few  of  us,  I 
think,  would  be  willing  to  say  as  much. 
The  idea  is  too  oppressive  to  be  borne. 
Personally,  I  believe  that  a 
foolish  girl  is  more  influenced  by 
another  foolish  girl,  to  say  nothing  of 
a  foolish  boy,  than  by  all  the  novels  on 
the  library  shelves."  The  writer  re- 
members a  time,  dozens  of  years  ago, 
when  she  was  a  "  foolish  "  girl  her- 
self. She  was  eagerly  reading  "John 
Halifax,  Gentleman."  John  was  a 
good  boy,  he  was  a  noble  man,   and 


this  toolish  girl  adored  him.  \'et 
another  foolish  girl — a  not-much-loved 
foolish  girl,  either — came  along  and 
dared  her  to  take  a  bite  out  of  a  cake 
of  N.  P.  washing  soap.  And  the  first 
foolish  girl  did.  Now,  John  would 
never  have  taken  the  dare.  It  would 
have  been  stronger  to  resist  it,  espe- 
cially as  the  N.  P.  soap  was  not  good 
to  eat.  .\nd  this  foolish  girl,  remem- 
ber, adored  John,  and  knew  him  like  a 
book.  Only  once  do  we  read  of  his 
allowing  himself  to  swear,  and  that 
was  when  he  could  not  help  it;  but  if 
he  had  known  this  foolish  girl,  and 
had  been  aware  that  she  adored  him, 
perhaps  he  would  have  let  go  of  him- 
self again. 

Well,  we  have  heard  of  mothers 
washing  out  their  little  boys*  mouths 
when  they  have  been  saying  bad 
words,  and  we  can  think  of  nothing 
more  effective  than  N.  P.  washing  soap. 
,  B.  /.  T. 

DOMESTIC  ROCKS 
PAPER  III 

THIS  brief  paper  will  deal  with  fam- 
ily fault-finding,  or  what  might 
be  called  the  donfs  in  the  home.  Of 
course  every  home  knows  the  sound  of 
this  word;  and,  while  it  is  a  very  good 
and  necessary  word  at  times  to  keep 
the  baby  from  falling  over  the  balcony, 
etc.,  used  too  often  it  becomes  ex- 
tremely hackneyed,  and,  like  any  other 
abused  and  overworked  animal,  it  fin- 
ally gets  its  back  up  and  refuses  to  do 
its  work. 

"  I  never  think  of  minding  mother," 


78 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


a  vivacious  young  girl  said  to  me  the 
other  day.  "  But  if  father  tells  me 
not  to  do  anything — oh,  dear!  I  just 
stop  at  once." 

This  is  not  an  exceptional  case,  by 
any  means. 

"Why?"  I  queried,  just  for  infor- 
mation. 

*'  Oh,  because — mother  keeps  at  me 
all  the  time  and  I  get  used  to  it.  But 
father — well,  he  isn't  around  the  house 
much,  and  he  only  tells  me  once,  but  I 
can  tell  you  he  means  it!" 

The  whole  trouble,  then,  is  the 
ceaseless  repetition  of  the  don't.  The 
mother,  so  much  in  the  house  with  her 
children,  with  little  to  take  her  out  of 
her  narrow,  paltry  cares,  forms  uncon- 
sciously the  fatal  habit  of  "  nagging," 
which,  I  believe,  drives  more  sons  to 
drink  and  more  daughters  into  un- 
lovely marriages  than  any  other  thing. 

"  Don't  sit  all  day  reading  novels. 
I  never  see  you  without  a  book  in  your 
hand,"  comes  from  the  lips  of  one 
fault-finding  mother,  when  in  reality 
the  little  offender  does  not  read  more 
than  an  hour  a  day.  The  mother  is 
merely  speaking  with  impulsive  care- 
lessness, as  she  passes  the  sitting-room 
where  she  happens  to  find  her — possi- 
bly— favourite  daughter  curled  up  in  a 
big  chair.     Or  : 

"  Don't  track  so  much  mud  through 
the  house.  I  believe  you  are  worse 
than  the  dogs  ! " 

And  at  another  time  : 

"  Don't  be  seen  walking  with  Mary 
Smile  again.  You  ought  to  have  too 
much  pride.  But  your  tastes  always 
did  seem  to  be  low  in  the  company  you 
keep." 

A  minute's  pause,  and  then  : 

**  Don't  wear  your  best  hat  every 
time  you  go  out.  You  won't  have 
anything  fit  to  wear  to  church  soon.  .  . 
Don't  laugh  so  loudly.  It  is  decidedly 
vulgar!" 

The  mother  does  not  mean  half  she 
says.  Neither  does  she  intend  to  hurt 
her  daughter's  feelings,  for  she  is  fond 
of  her,  perhaps,  after  her  own  fashion. 
But  her  continual  and  exaggerated  re- 
proofs are  taken  literally  and  seriously 
by  the  child,  who   in  time   loses  self- 


respect,  and  away  down  in  her  impres- 
sionable heart  believes  herself  to  be  a 
little  reprobate ;  but,  most  of  all, 
doesn't  care.  She  slowly  but  surely 
gets  used  to  the  thought  that  she  is  a 
useless,  wrongdoing  and  very  wicked 
child. 

The  parent  has  no  thought  of  such 
an  evil  consequence ;  in  fact,  she  would 
be  the  first  to  loudly  protest  should 
any  outsider  cast  the  slightest  slur 
upon  the  conduct  of  her  daughter. 
Why,  the  very  idea  !  Louise  is  the 
best  behaved  girl  in  town ! 

Yet  selfishly  she  indulges  that  "nag- 
ging" propensity,  quite  regardless  of 
consequences. 

"  Nagging,"  it  may  be  contended,  is 
not  a  very  pretty  word;  but  it  is  so 
expressive,  and,  alas  !  it  will  be  so 
generally  understood. 

Another  phase  through  which  nearly 
every  youngster  has  passed  is  the 
continual  comparison  with  the  children 
of  other  parents. 

"Don't  be  always  quarrelling,  you 
two  !  Why  aren't  you  like  Molly  and 
Prudence  Sticks  !  They  always  get  on 
so  beautifully  together  " — forgetting, 
apparently,  the  only  example  the  un- 
fortunate children  have  ever  had — the 
unhappy  inheritance  of  bickering 
parents. 

Then  Mrs.  Sticks  says  to  Prudence  : 

"  I  can't  see  why  you  don't  get  on 
better  with  your  music.  We  have 
spent  ten  times  as  much  on  you  al- 
ready as  they  have  on  Irene  Freak; 
and  see  how  she  can  play!  Her  mother 
has  something  to  be  proud  of;  but 
look  at  you.  You  can't  play  the  sim- 
plest little  piece  without  stumbling" — 
quite  ignoring  the  scientific  fact  of 
heredity,  and  that  neither  she  nor  her 
husband  could,  to  save  their  lives,  tell 
the  difference  between  "  God  Save  the 
King"  and  "Yankee  Doodle,"  ex- 
cepting, of  course,  when  they  heard 
the  words. 

At  the  same  time  Mrs.  Freak  is  more 
than  likely  saying  to  Irene: 

"  I  wish  you  were  only  some  use  in 
the  world,  like  Prudence  Sticks.  Now, 
she  can  make  all  her  own  shirt-waists, 
and    she    does    all    Molly's  sewing  as 


IVOMAN'S  SPHERE 


79 


well.  Besides,  her  aunt  told  me  only 
the  other  day  that  she  knows  how  to 
bake  bread  and  do  all  kinds  of  plain 
cooking.  Her  mother  can  go  away 
for  a  little  visit  any  time  and  leave  her 
to  keep  hrtuse  for  the  father.  She  is  a 
perfect  little  treasure.  But  you — all 
you  seem  fit  for  is  to  strum  on  that  old 
piano  from  morning  till  night,  until  I 
declare  I  am  heartily  sick  of  the  very 
sound  of  it.  Why  don't  you  go  out 
more,  and  get  a  little  colour  in  your 
face  like  Patty  Hope?" 

And  I  would  wager  a  good  deal  that 
Mrs.  Hope  is  saying  to  her  young 
•♦hopeful": 

"  Patty,  come  here  this  minute  and 
take  off  your  hat.  Don't  you  dare  go 
out  of  the  house  this  day.  You're  for- 
ever gadding  the  streets.  I'm  just 
going  to  speak  to  your  father  about 
the  way  you  are  going  on.  I  simply 
won't  put  up  with  it  any  longer. 

**  And  you  make  too  free  with  the 
boys,  too.  I  never  see  you  coming  up 
the  street  any  more  without  one  of 
those  everlasting  school-boys  tagging 
after  you,  and  then  they  have  to  hang 
on  to  the  gate  for  hours.  It's  so  vul- 
gar— ^just  like  the  servant  girls  and 
their  beaux.  .And.  besides,  you're  too 
young  to  be  thinking  about  suchthings. 
I  never  looked  at  a  boy  until  I  was 
twenty.  (?)  If  you  were  only  as  modest 
as  Primrose  Plane  across  the  street,  I 
would  be  the  happiest  woman  in  To- 
ronto— no,  don't  dare  talk  back.  I 
say  you're  not  to  leave  this  house  again 
to-day." 

Across  the  way  Mrs.  Plane  is  hold- 
ing forth  in  this  wise: 

'♦  My  dear  Primrose,  I  wish  you 
would  go  out  more  and  try  to  get  over 
thatdreadful  bashfulness.  You're  aper- 
fect  stick,  and  need  never  hope  to  get 
on  in  the  world  unless  you  are  friendlier 
with  people.  Now,  there  is  Patty 
Hope.  She  has  so  many  nice  boy 
friends  ;  and  I  think  it  is  the  best  thing 
for  a  girl.  Why,  I  was  married  to 
your  poor  dear  father  before  I  was 
seventeen!  (?)  But  I've  seen  you  go 
around  a  block  to  avoid  meeting  even 
your  harmless  cousin  Tom.  Do  try 
to  get  over  that  way  you  have,  or 
nobody  will  ever  like  you!" 


-\nd  so  on,  and  so  on. 

It  would  take  a  chapter  in  itself  to 
narrate  a  few  of  the  complaints  brought 
against  the  conduct  of  the  sons  of  the 
house.  But  boys  are  more  fortunate. 
They  can  get  out  of  the  house,  though 
they  do  have  many  a  parting  shot 
hurled  after  their  vanishing  heads. 
,  A.  M. 

A   HISBAND  TEST 

IN  a  serious  medical  work,  of 
American  origin,  I  came  across  an 
article  the  other  day  on  the  way  to  tell 
whether  a  young  man  will  make  a 
suitable  life-partner  for  a  self-respect- 
ing young  woman  or  not.  Prof. 
Goodrich,  one  of  the  greatest  experts 
in  the  reading  of  human  character, 
was  quoted  as  having  advised  the 
following  course  : 

First  introduce  the  young  man  in 
question  (not  the  questionable  young 
man)  to  some  old  lady  and  leave  them 
together  for  a  while,  the  longer  the 
better.  (That  depends,  too,  on  the 
point  of  view.)  Then  ask  the  old 
lady  what  she  thinks  of  him.  (You 
may  be  willing  to  risk  this,  but  I 
shouldn't.) 

Next  try  introducing  the  youth 
incidentally,  of  course,  to  a  young 
baby.  (These  are  the  exact  words  in 
the  book.)  And  do  not  stay  around 
yourself,*  but  afterwards  get  the  baby's 
opinion  of  the  person  at  stake  (couched 
in  unintelligible  terms,  but  translated 
on  request)  from  the  baby's  mother  or 
nurse.  Ask  how  the  victim  was 
treated.  If  the  baby  pulls  his  mous- 
tache or  "crows"  to  him,  it  is  a  sure 
sign  the  young  man  may  be  trusted 
(which  is  more  than  I  would  be 
willing  to  admit  regarding  the  baby; 
but  this  isn't  my  essay.  The  book 
goes  on  to  say:)  Babies  and  very  old 
people  are  the  very  best  judges  of 
human  nature.  With  either,  the  young 
man  will  be  off  his  guard  and  act  out 
his  inner  nature.  (Now  I  think  this 
would  be  taking  an  unfair  advantage 
of  poor  innocent  man — sort  of  a  female 
detective  agency.  But  we  must  finish 
the  quotation,  as  there  may  be  girls 
just  mean  enough  to  try  this  scheme  !) 

The     baby    will     instinctively    feel 


So 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


an  unkind  or  wicked  presence  and 
promptly  turn  from  it,  while  the  old 
lady  whose  sight  has  grown  dim 
depends  upon  her  inner  or  intuitive 
impressions,  and  is  rarely  mistaken 
when  she  does  so. 

This,  the  professor  declared  after 
thoughtful  deliberation,  was  his  very 
best  advice  to  young  women  about  to 
launch  upon  the  perilous  sea  of  matri- 
mony. 

On  looking  into  the  matter  there 
seems  to  be  another  side  to  the  ques- 
tion. There  is  certainly  something 
■else  to  consider  beside  the  conduct  of 
the  baby  and  the  subconscious  impres- 
sions of  old  age,  namely^  the  bravery  of 
him  who  dares  tackle  either  situation. 
It  is  generally  admitted  that  a  youth 
of  the  stern  sex  has  a  strange  aversion 
to  a  newly-introduced  infant,  that  he 
would  rather  meet  an  elephant  or  face 
the  cannon's  mouth;  and  as  for  the 
contingency  of  the  baby  crowing  or 
taking  liberties  with  his  moustache — 
well,  that  would  be  the  last  straw. 
The  trembling  youth  would  be  more 
than  likely  to  drop  that  tender  bit  of 
"crowing"  humanity  upon  the  floor. 
And  yet  surely  no  critic  would  be  so 
misguided  as  to  declare  that  such  a 
baby  is  the  making  of  a  criminal 
because  the  young  man  could  not 
endure  its  presence  even  for  a  minute. 

Moreover,  he  who  willingly  ap- 
proaches, without  a  tremour,  any  old 
lady  but  his  own  grandmother,  for 
the  purposes  of  conversation,  is  plucky 
indeed.  Whether  she  is  favourably 
impressed  with  him  or  not  is  of  little 
consequence  beside  the  consideration 
of  manly  courage  thus  evinced, 

A.M. 

A  WOMAN'S  HAIR 

TTAIR  dressers  tell  you  a  lot  of  inter- 
-^-»-  esting  things  at  times,  especially 
when  your  head  is  bent  low  over  the 
marble  basin  and  partially  submerged 
in  the  water  which  is  to  wash  off  the 
"shampoo"  mixture. 

An  expert  told  me  the  other  day  that 
a  woman's  scalp  has  one  more  layer 
than  a  man's.      It  then  occurred  to  me 


that  we  are  not  called  "thick-headed" 
by  the  opposite  sex  without  a  good 
and  scientific  reason;  and  in  future, 
instead  of  resenting  the  accusation,  we 
ought  manfully  to  accept  the  situation 
with  resignation. 

Now,  it  is  well  to  know  that  there 
are  compensations;  and  while  com- 
pelled to  admit  a  disadvantageous 
thickness  of  scalp,  we  can  claim  and 
justly  boast  a  superior  thickness  of 
hair.  Of  course,  this  "glory  of 
woman"  seems  a  doubtful  good  at 
times.  When,  for  instance,  you  come 
home  at  night,  worn  and  weary  after 
a  delightful  dance,  you  manage  some- 
how to  slip  out  of  your  clothes — but, 
oh  !  that  hair  !  What  unkind  things 
you  say  to  it  when  nobody  is  there  to 
hear  or  defend  its  reputation  !  But 
your  words  are  not  words  of  wisdom, 
nor  is  your  conduct  likewise,  for  you 
know  perfectly  well  that  "it  has  to  be 
some  time,  it  may  as  well  be  now." 

Nevertheless,  you  throw  yourself 
upon  your  downy  couch  for  perhaps 
half  an  hour,  all  the  time  dreading  the 
ordeal  of  taking  out  the  dozen  or  two 
hairpins,  brushing  the  luxurious  locks 
and  plaiting  them,  or  putting  up  the 
shorter  strands  in  curl  papers — or,  it 
may  be,  laying  them  tenderly  away  in 
a  bureau  drawer,  for  thus  it  is  with 
some  ill-favoured  mortals  ! 

This  brings  me  to  another  fact 
gleaned  from  a  dresser  of  hair — that 
most  of  the  switches  and  wigs  on  sale 
in  the  hairshops  are  obtained  from  our 
asylums  and  prisons.  They  are  pro- 
cured for  a  mere  trifle  and  sold  at  a 
big  profit.  If  their  origin  were  more 
generally  known,  there  would  be  fewer 
women — women  of  refinement  that  is 
— who  would  allow  unknown  switches 
to  touch  their  sensitive  scalps  ;  particu- 
larly those  very  up-to-date  individuals 
who  minutely  explore  all  the  sacred 
mysteries  of  the  universe  and  make  a 
fad  of  psychic  research.  Such  persons 
would  probably  contend  that  the  con- 
tact of  the  inanimate  hair  of  the  criminal 
with  the  live  scalp  of  a  saint  would 
make,  in  time,  an  equal  criminal  of  the 
wearer. 

A.M. 


HE  accounts  to  hand  of  the 
defeat  of  the  Watson  Labour 
ministry  in  Australia  show 
that  its  overthrow  was 
effected  by  a  union  of  the 
forces  of  Mr.  George  Reid,  the  most 
thorough-going  free-trader,  and  Mr. 
Deakin,  leader  of  the  protectionists 
and  Mr.  Watson's  predecessor  as 
Premier  of  Australia.  Mr.  Watson's 
short  reign  was  only  possible  through 
the  division  of  his  opponents.  It 
seemed  unlikely  that  they  could  unite, 
but  they  eventually  did  so,  and  de- 
stroyed him. 

One  of  the  political  phenomena  in 
the  antipodes  is  the  strength  which 
labour  shows  at  the  polls.  Its  inter- 
ests and  principles  largely  prevail  in 
the  Government  of  New  Zealand.  In 
all  the  Australian  colonies  it  is  a  strong 
political  force,  represented  influentially 
in  every  legislative  body.  In  the  Fed- 
eral Parliament  it  succeeded  in  gain- 
ing the  reins  of  power.  Why  labour 
should  in  Australia  show  that  unity  of 
purpose  which  it  has  failed  to  manifest 
in  other  lands  where  popular  govern- 
ment is  equally  in  vogue,  is  not  easily 
answered.  Economically,  Australia 
exhibits  some  rather  unusual  features. 
Every  one  will  be  struck  with  the 
populousness  of  the  towns  as  com- 
pared with  the  country  which  they 
serve.  Melbourne  and  Sydney,  the 
capitals  of  Victoria  and  New  South 
Wales  respectively,  are  both  consider- 
ably larger  than  the  largest  of  our 
Canadian  cities,  although  the  density 
of  the  adjacent  population  which  they 
serve  is  quite  inferior  to  that  of  the 
settled  parts  of  Canada.  It  is  per- 
haps, however,  in  the  rural  portions  of 
the  country  where  some  of  these  differ- 
ences in  economic  and  political  condi- 
tions have  their  rise.  In  the  Austra- 
lian colonies  the  small  farmer,  who  is 


the  basis  of  the  population  of  a  country 
like  Canada,  is  by  no  means  numerous 
enough  to  be  influential.  Australia  is 
largely  given  up  to  the  large  farm.  A 
proprietor  often  covers  an  immense 
area  with  his  flocks,  and  is  not  only  a 
farmer  but  also  an  extensive  employer 
of  labour.  Labour  as  a  political  force 
is  scarcely  known  outside  the  cities  in 
America;  in  Australia  a  goodly  num- 
ber of  the  inhabitants  of  cities  find 
occasional  employment  in  the  country. 
A  labour  ministry-  has  just  been  formed 
in  West  Australia,  where  Perth,  the 
largest  town,  has  but  20,000  inhabit- 
ants, or  thereabouts.  The  recent 
elections  in  New  South  Wales  leave 
the  Labour  party  with  the  balance  of 
power. 

This  was  long  the  position  of  affairs 
in  the  Federal  Parliament.  No  one 
party  was  competent  to  carry  on 
the  affairs  of  the  Government.     Both 


Australia's  new  Premier  and  Minister  for 
External  Affairs 


6-3i 


82 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


HON.    MR.    MCLEAN 
Australian  Minister  of  Customs 

Sir  Edmund  Barton,  the  first  premier 
of  united  Australia,  and  his  succes- 
sor, Mr.  Deakin,  had  to  depend  on 
Labour  votes  to  keep  them  in  power. 
Labour  and  Protection  helped  to  keep 
Mr.  George  Reid,  leader  of  the  Free 
Trade  Opposition,  on  the  wrong  side 
of  the  House.  At  length  Mr.  Watson 
and  his  colleagues  of  the  Labour  party 
persuaded  themselves  that  it  was  time 
to  assume  office  and  its  responsibili- 
ties. Mr.  Deakin  was  defeated,  and  Mr. 
Watson  accepted  the  task  of  forming 
a  ministry.  It  was  wholly  composed 
of  men  who  had  actually  depended  for 
their  livelihood  at  one  time  or  other  on 
manual  labour,  with  the  oneexception  of 
Mr.  H.  B.  Higgins,  one  of  the  prom- 
inent members  of  the  Melbourne  bar. 
He  accepted  the  Attorney-Generalship. 
The  other  members  of  the  Labour 
Ministry  were  decidedly  interesting 
personages.  Even  their  foes  would 
have  conceded  one  thing,  namely,  the 
common  capacity  for  unremitting  and 
earnest  work.  As  one  not  over- 
friendly  critic  said:  "They  are  like  a 
band  of  ascetic  brothers  working  at 
all  hours  to  spread  a  new  gospel." 
Mr.  Watson,  the  defunct  Premier,  is  a 
printer  by  trade,  but  early  showed  an 
interest  in    political  affairs.     He  was 


first  elected  for  the  Young  seat  in  the 
Legislative  Assembly  of  New  South 
Wales.  He  and  his  colleagues  showed 
themselves  able  to  live  on  their  indem- 
nity, and  thus  are  enabled  to  devote 
their  whole  time  to  their  public  duties. 
To  this,  undoubtedly,  a  large  share  of 
their  success  is  due.  Mr.  Watson  is 
described  as  being  by  no  means  of  an 
impressive  figure,  but  an  indefatigable 
worker,  a  plain,  convincing  speaker, 
and  with  a  great  deal  of  patience, 
policy  and  flexibility  of  temper.  Mr. 
Hughes,  the  Minister  for  External 
Affairs,  had  been  an  umbrella  maker. 
He  qualified  himself  to  practise  law 
during  his  spare  time,  but  was  not 
considered  a  sufficiently  heavy  weight 
to  take  up  the  duties  of  Attorney- 
General.  Senator  McGregor,  Vice- 
President  of  the  Council,  was  a  brick- 
layer's labourer  before  he  entered  poli- 
tics. Mr.  Fisher,  Minister  of  Cus- 
toms, was  a  miner.  Mr.  Dawson, 
Minister  of  Defence,  is  a  mechanical 
engineer,  and  is  one  of  the  cleverest 
debaters  in  the  Australian  Parliament. 
Mr.  Mahon,  the  Postmaster-General, 
is  a  shorthand  reporter,  and  learned 
his  Parliamentary  lore  in  the  gallery 
of  the  House.  Mr.  Lee  Batchelor  is 
an  engine  fitter,  and  was  the  only 
native-born  Australian  in  the  defunct 
cabinet,  although  "Australia  for  the 
Australians  "  is  one  of  the  party's  cries. 

This  group  of  men  had  gained  a  great 
reputation  for  their  self-abnegation 
and  self-sacrifice  on  behalf  of  the  cause 
they  represented.  Their  enemies  say, 
however,  that  these  qualities  broke 
down  in  sight  of  office.  Mr.  Deakin, 
while  in  power,  was  dependent  on  the 
votes  of  the  Labour  party,  who  held  the 
balance,  with  the  consequence  that 
many  of  the  radical  changes  advocated 
by  it  were  translated  into  statutes. 
But  because  he  would  not  go  far 
enough  with  them  he  perished.  He 
resisted  an  amendment  to  the  arbitra- 
tion bill  providing  that  civil  servants 
should  come  under  the  scope  of  its 
operation.  The  free  traders,  however, 
supported    the    amendment,  and    Mr. 


CURRENT  EVENTS  ABROAD 


83 


■-IR    GEORGE    TIKM  K 

Australian  Treasurer 


MR    Jv>SI\H    SVMON' 

Australian  Attorney-General 


Deakin  was  defeated,  and  resigned. 
No  section  of  the  House  was  strong 
enough  to  carry  on  the  Government, 
but  Mr.  Watson,  as  leader  of  the 
Labour  party,  was  oflFered  the  oppor- 
tunity of  forming  a  ministry,  and 
accepted  it.  A  curious  situation  then 
arose.  Mr.  Watson  was  at  the  mercy 
of  any  chance  union  of  his  disunited 
enemies  and  had,  therefore,  to  be  wary 
to  afford  them  no  incitement  to 
coalesce.  The  consequence  of  this 
was  that  the  party  which,  out  of  office, 
was  seething  with  new  ideas,  became 
in  office  more  cautious  and  conserva- 
tive than  the  party  they  had  displaced. 
It  was  not  prepared  even  to  urge  the 
clause  upon  which  the  Deakin  ministry 
had  been  defeated.  Indeed,  its 
announced  programme  was  so  like 
that  of  its  predecessors  that  it  became 
a  matter  of  amusement  throughout 
Australia. 

The  Labour  Ministry  at  length  fell, 
however,  on  a  clause  of  the  arbitration 
bill  which  provided  that  the  arbitration 
tribunal  should  give  a  preference  to 
unionists  over  non-unionists  in  afford- 
ing employment.  The  clause  was 
knocked    out    in    committee,   and    the 


Government's  foes  were  able  to  unite 
their  forces,  when  Mr.  Watson  moved 
for  a  recommittal.  Such  a  motion 
prevented  the  possibility  of  amend- 
ments or  compromises.  A  reading  of 
the  debate  shows  how  angry  the 
Government  and  its  supporters  were 
at  what  some  of  them  called  **a  dirty 
trick."  They  were  defeated,  and 
resigned.  In  the  meantime  Mr.  Dea- 
kin's  Liberal  and  Protectionist  follow- 
ers had  fixed  up  a  truce  and  alliance 
with  Mr.  Turner's  Conservative  and 
Free  Trade  followers.  They  agreed 
to  put  the  fiscal  debate  on  the  shelf, 
to  unite  on  other  questions  and  form 
a  Government.  Mr.  Deakin  refused 
to  take  any  office,  but  promised 
his  hearty  support  as  a  private  mem- 
ber. Mr.  Reid  was  chosen  leader 
of  the  alliance.  Mr.  Maclean,  Mr. 
Deakin's  chief  lieutenant,  took  his 
place  beside  Mr.  Reid  with  "equal 
powers."  This  does  not  look  hopeful. 
There  is,  however,  a  quantity  of  useful 
legislation  waiting  for  a  strong  Gov- 
ernment to  make  it  law,  and,  if  tariff 
disputes  can  be  effectually  laid  aside, 
this  combination,  which  at  least  con- 
trols a  majority  in  the  House,  may  be 
able  to  effect  some  useful  work. 

John  A.  Ewan. 


MR.    R.    L.    BORDEN 
Leader  of  the  Opposition  (Conservative) 

PEOPLE  AND  AFFAIRS 


0 


THE  GENERAL  ELECTIONS 

N  November  3rd  the  people  will 
vote  for  those  whom  they  want 
to  represent  them  in  the  House  of 
Commons  during  the  next  five  years. 
Incidentally,  they  will  decide  whether 
Sir  Wilfrid  Laurier  shall  remain  in  the 
Premiership,    or   whether  it  shall    be 

84 


offered  to  Mr.  R.  L.  Borden,  the  leader 
of  the  Conservatives. 

Already  the  decision  as  to  the  char- 
acter of  the  next  House  has  proceeded 
some  distance.  There  are  about  a 
million  men  in  the  country,  and  of 
these  about  430  have  been  selected  as 
candidates.      The  other   999,570  will 


SIR      WILFRID      L  A  U  R I E  R 
Premier  of  Canada  and   Loader  of  the   Liberal  Party 


not  be  members.  The  district  and 
ward  gatherings  sent  representatives 
to  the  electoral  district  conventions, 
and  the  conventions  have  selected  the 

8s 


430  men,  a  Conservative  and  a  Liberal 
for  each  constituency  and  here  and 
there  an  Independent  candidate.  Of 
these  candidates,  perhaps  one-third  are 


86 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


LORD   GREY 

Canada's  New  Governor-General 


new  men;  the  remainder  are  former 
members  or  former  candidates.  Taken 
as  a  whole,  they  are  much  like  previous 
crops.  A  few  are  bad,  a  few  are  good, 
and  most  of  them  are  neutral.  Of  the 
215  who  will  be  elected,  about  one 
hundred  will  exercise  some  good  influ- 
ence in  the  government  of  the  future, 
about  one  hundred  will  be  mere  vote- 
recorders,  and  about  fifteen  will  exercise 
a  pernicious  influence.  At  least,  that 
is  the  inference  to  be  drawn  from  past 
experiences. 

The  real  question  before  the  electors 
on  November  3rd  is  not  whether  the 
Liberal  party  or  the  Conservative 
party  shall  be  victorious,  because  that 
matters   little.     The   chief  decision  is 


that  concerning  the 
character  of  the  new 
members.  It  the 
electors  vote  wisely, 
the  ballots  will  be 
marked  for  the  best 
candidates  —  the 
men  with  the  clean- 
est records,  with  the 
strongest  characters 
and  the  highest 
ideals.  The  country 
needs  a  set  of  mem- 
bers who  will  keep 
country  in  front  of 
party,  who  will 
think  less  of  a  possi- 
ble government 
contract  or  govern- 
ment appointment 
than  of  the  country's 
best  interests. 
Candidates  who  are 
known  to  be 
drinkers,  gamblers 
and  impure  in  their 
private  life  should 
be  discouraged. 

So  far  as  protec- 
tion is  concerned, 
there  is  little  differ- 
ence between  the 
parties.  The  Lib- 
erals are  in  favour 
of  a  reasonable 
tariff,  the  Conserva- 
tives of  an  adequate 
tariff.  If  the  Liberals  are  returned  to 
power,  the  tariff  will  remain  practically 
where  it  is  now;  if  the  Conservatives 
gain  the  treasury  benches,  the  tariff 
may  be  increased  slightly. 

One  of  the  chief  issues  is  the  build- 
ing of  the  Grand  Trunk  Pacific  from 
ocean  to  ocean.  The  Liberal  govern- 
ment has  made  a  contract  which  is 
partially  government  ownership  of  the 
roadbed,  with  a  possible  ultimate  gov- 
ernment operation  of  one-half  of  the 
line.  The  Conservatives  are  in  favour 
of  government  ownership  of  the  entire 
roadbed,  with  a  limited  measure  of 
private  operation.  Just  what  effect 
on  the  building  of  this  transcontin- 
ental line  a  Conservative  victory  would 


PEOPLE  AND  AFFAIRS 


87 


have,     is    hard    to 
estimate. 

In  respect  of 
leaders,  the  Liberal 
party  has  some- 
what the  advan- 
tage, in  that  its 
leading  men  are 
better  known.  Sir 
Wilfrid  Laurier  has 
been  leader  of  that 
party  for  a  dozen 
years,  and  has 
made  a  name  and 
reputation  which  is 
second  to  none 
in  the  country. 
Messrs.  Mulock, 
Fielding,  Sifton 
and  Aylesworth  are 
men  of  tried  exper- 
ience and  well- 
known  ability.  Mr. 
Borden,  the  leader 
of  the  Conserva- 
tives, is  a  man  of 
splendid  parts,  dig- 
nified, scholarly, 
and  with  fair  exec- 
utive ability.  Hi> 
lieutenants  are, 
like  most  lieuten- 
ants of  oppositions, 
not  so  well  known 
as  the  Cabinet  Min- 
isters, and  suffer 
from  that  disadvan- 
tage. Nevertheless,  the  fight  will 
not  be  one-sided,  and  if  the  Liberals 
are  returned  to  power  it  will  be  with 
a  reduced  majority.  During  recent 
sessions  their  majority  was  almost 
too  large,  especially  that  from  the 
Province  of  Quebec. 


THE  NEW  GOVERNOR 

THE  new  Governor- General  will 
arrive  shortly,  and  the  present 
occupants  of  the  vice-regal  mansion 
will  depart.  Lord  and  Lady  Minto 
leave  with  the  best  wishes  of  all  classes 
of  Canadians.  Lord  Minto  has  avoided 
the  rashness  which   has  characterised 


The 


LADY    OKEY 

New  Mistress  of  Rideau  Hall 

the  public  actions  of  such  British 
representatives  as  General  Hutton  and 
Lord  Dundonald,  and  has  followed 
rather  the  example  set  by  the  Marquis 
of  Dufferin  and  the  Earl  of  Aberdeen. 
While  he  may  have  differed  with  his 
Ministers  on  some  public  questions,  he 
never  carried  his  objections  beyond  a 
calm  and  judicious  discussion.  He 
never,  so  far  as  the  public  is  aware, 
made  a  protest  of  any  kind  in  a  spirit 
which  might  have  been  resented  by  the 
elected  rulers  of  the  country.  Lady 
Minto  has  been  foremost  in  social 
leadership  and  earnest  in  good  works. 
She  has  made  many  warm  friends  who 
will  wish  her  all  prosperity,  success  and 
happiness  in  whatever  sphere  she  may 


88 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


spend  the  remainder  of  her  useful  life. 
Of  the  new  Governor  and  Lady  Grey 
much  is  expected,  since  they  come  with 
bright  reputations  and  high  praise  from 
those  who  have  had  opportunity  of 
knowing"  them.  The  selections  made 
by  the  British  Government  in  the  past 
have  been  admirable,  and  apparently 
another  credit  must  now  be  recorded. 
Their  Excellencies  are  certain  to  have 
a  warm  welcome,  although  this  could 
not  be  truthfully  said  if  the  appoint- 
ment had  been  given  to  others  whose 
names  were  mentioned  before  the  final 
designation  was  made. 


Albert  Henry  George  Grey,  4th  Earl 
of  Grey,  was  born  in  1851.  He  was 
educated  at  Harrow  School  and  Trinity 
College,  Cambridge.  He  represented 
Northumberland  in  the  Liberal  interest 
from  1880  to  1886.  He  became  a  great 
friend  of  the  Hon.  Cecil  Rhodes,  and 
was  administrator  of  Rhodesia  for  a 
time  and  later  a  director  of  the  British 
South  Africa  Company.  In  1877  he 
married  Alice,  the  third  daughter  of 
Robert  Stagner  Holford,  M.P.  They 
have  one  son,  the  present  Viscount 
Howick. 

John  A.   Cooper 


Mew 


FORGING  AHEAD 

TN  spite  of  a  few  bluebeards  who  act 
■^  as  patronisers-general  to  the  rest 
of  the  people,  our  native  literature  is 
steadily  forging  ahead.  One  or  two 
reviewers,  being  troubled  with  dic- 
tionary indigestion,  still  think  it  smart 
to  deride  the  art  of  Parker  and  Eraser, 
and  to  ignore  all  other  native  writers. 
Afew  banker-authors  andother  pseudo- 
literary  persons,  puffed  up  with  the 
pride  of  a  large  salary  and  a  cash  sur- 
plus, continue  to  insist  that  there  is  no 
such  thing  as  Canadian  literature,  that 
patriotism  should  have  nothing  to  do 
with  history,  fiction  or  poetry.  Ac- 
cording to  these  self-appointed  teach- 
ers it  is  quite  correct  to  speak  of  "Ca- 
nadian trade,"  "Canadian  tariff  pol- 
icy," "  Canadian  sentiment,"  and  so 
on,  but  it  is  bad  taste  to  use  the  phrase 
"Canadian  Literature." 

During  the  past  few  weeks,  such 
well-edited  journals  as  the  Toronto 
Mail  and  Empire  and  the  Toronto 
News  have  devoted  as  much  as  a  page 
in  the  Saturday  issue  to  Canadian 
book  news.     It  is  pleasant   to  notice 


that  Katharine  Hale  of  the  former 
paper,  and  Marjory  MacMurchy  of  the 
latter,  are  honestly  endeavouring  to 
do  in  the  literary  field  what  Sir  John 
Macdonald  tried  and  Sir  Wilfrid 
Laurier  is  trying  to  do  in  the  political 
field.  There  are  other  patriotic  writers 
on  the  daily  press  who  might  be  men- 
tioned in  connection  with  similar 
work,  but  these  two  reviewers  have 
been  especially  prominent  by  reason  of 
their  recent  successes  in  this  special 
field. 

Just  here  it  may  be  remarked  that 
when  a  London  journal  answered  Sir 
Gilbert  Parker's  plea  for  more  liberal 
treatment  with  the  remark  that  it  took 
him  at  the  estimate  of  his  own  coun- 
trymen, that  London  journal  was 
entirely  misled  by  these  pessimists. 
Sir  Gilbert  Parker  may  occasionally 
put  his  name  to  a  lame  work,  may 
once  or  twice  give  us  a  novel  showing 
signs  of  haste,  but  he  is  still  the  lead- 
ing Canadian  novelist.  The  good 
work  that  he  has  done  in  the  past  has 
given  him  a  permanent  and  abiding 
place  in. the  esteem  of  his  fellow-citi- 


ABOUT  NEW  BOOKS 


89 


zens  in  this  part  of  the  Empire. 
His  receptions  in  this  country  have 
always  been  most  enthusiastic,  and 
perhaps  another  visit  to  us  would 
be  the  best   answer  to   his    critics. 


LEGAL  REMINISCENCES 

MR.  Hamilton,  author  of  "Os- 
g-oode  Hall,  Reminiscences  of 
the  Bench  and  Bar,"*  has  become 
known  to  the  reading^  public  of 
Ontario  by  several  previous  works. 
His  description  of  the  Georgian  Bay 
and  its  surroundings  attracted 
favourable  notice  at  the  time  of  its 
publication.  He  has  also  devoted 
much  study  to  the  negro  question, 
and  is  a  recognised  authority  on 
subjects  connected  with  the  history 
of  the  African  race  in  Canada  and 
the  United  States. 

Mr.  Hamilton's  professional  con- 
nections have  been  wide  and  varied, 
and  he  is  competent  from  his  own 
training'  and  experience  to  speak 
with  authority  on  matters  relating 
to  the  Ontario  Bench  and  Bar. 

Reminiscences  are  sometimes  in- 
teresting only  to  a  very  limited 
circle.  A  work  dealing  with  legal 
recollections  might  be  supposed  to 
appeal  only  to  legal  readers.  The  pro- 
fession of  the  law,  however,  touches 
on  so  many  points  of  life  with  ordinary 
people  that  any  subject  connected  with 
it  applies  to  a  much  wider  circle  than 
the  legal  profession  itself. 

Mr.  Hamilton  has  furnished  a  record 
of  the  law  society  and  an  account  of 
the  prominent  officials  connected  with 
the  courts  and  the  other  machinery  of 
Osgoode  Hall.  Anecdotes  of  the  judges 
and  of  the  leaders  of  the  Bar  give 
a  fair  idea  of  their  private  and  official 
characters.  The  place  taken  by  mem- 
bers of  the  Bar  in  occupations  and 
pursuits  outside  of  their  own  profes- 
sion is  dwelt  upon.  In  order  that  the 
tyros  of  the  profession  may  also  see 
that  they  are  not  neglected,  an  account 
is  given  of  their  essays  in  oratory  and 
literature.      It  will  be  seen,  therefore, 


"By   James   Cteland 
The  Carswell  Co. 


Hamilton.     Toronto: 


MARSHALL  SAUNDERS  AND  HBR  GUINEA  PIG,  PRUDY 

Miss  Saunders  has  recently  taken  to  farming 
near  MeadowA'ale,  N.S. 


that  this  work  by  its  scope  covers 
much  ground.  Mr.  Hamilton  has 
rescued  many  traditions  and  legends 
which  in  a  short  time  would  have  per- 
ished altogether. 

Apart  from  the  domestic  relations 
of  Bench  and  Bar,  Mr.  Hamilton  has 
dealt  with  two  subjects  of  distinctly 
general  importance.  The  first  of  these 
subjects  is  that  of  the  mode  of  appoint- 
ment to  office  in  Osgoode  Hall.  Be- 
neath Mr.  Hamilton's  satire  lurks  too 
much  truth.  Mr.  Hamilton  might 
have  added  that  some  of  the  more  re- 
cent appointments  to  the  Bench  have 
certainly  not  been  the  reward  of  pro- 
fessional reputation  or  ability,  but 
have  been  due  to  his  Captain  Quid. 
The  other  subject  is  legal  education. 
On  the  latter  topic  Mr.  Hamilton  has 
opened  up  an  interesting  discussion, 
and  deserves  credit  for  his  courage 
and  plain  speaking. 

In   turning  over    the   pages  of  Mr. 


93 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


Hamilton's  book  many  well-known 
names  will  be  found.  Some  of  them 
will  be  remembered  by  the  younger 
members  of  the  Bar  with  aflfectionate 
gratitude.  Others  will  be  mentioned 
with  respect,  and  the  general  public 
who  read  the  book  will  be  surprised  to 
learn  in  how  many  directions  the  influ- 
ence of  the  Bar  permeates  public  life. 
Curious  and  valuable  illustrations  are 
interspersed  among  the  pages  of  the 
book  and  add  to  its  value. 


ROBERTS'  NEW  NOVEL 

"  nPHE  Prisoner  of  Mademoiselle,"* 
-■•  by  Charles  G.  D.  Roberts,  is 
a  story  of  a  Bostonian  ship's  company 
which  made  an  attack  on  the  trouble- 
some French  Colony  at  Port  Royal, 
with  the  idea  of  plunder  and  of  mak- 
ing a  search  for  gold,  amethyst  and 
malachite  in  Acadia.  A  young  lieu- 
tenant, while  on  a  scouting  expedition, 
gets  lost  and  is  ultimately  taken  pris- 
oner by  a  pretty  young  Frenchwoman. 
The  romance  of  these  two  is  the  chief 
interest  in  the  story. 

Roberts  is  not  a  strong  story- writer. 
He  is  a  poet,  a  stylist,  a  maker  of 
musical  prose — but  not  a  dramatist. 
This  new  book  is  sweet,  wholesome 
and  charming,  but  exhibits  little 
strength.  It  is  not  as  full  of  ♦'  guff" 
as  are  the  works  of  Marie  Corelli  and 
some  other  popular  writers,  because 
Roberts  is  an  artist  of  taste.  He  is 
never  guilty  of  expressing  cheap  opin- 
ions. He  has  a  picture  in  his  mind 
and  he  paints  it  with  more  or  less 
fidelity. 

GABRIEL  PRAED'S  CASTLE 

CARA  JEANETTE  DUNCAN  hasnot 
^  written  anything  quite  so  lively  and 
so  fascinating  as  Alice  Jones's  "Gabriel 
Praed's  Castle. "f  This  is  a  novel 
which,  if  the  writer  is  not  mistaken, 
raises  Miss  Jones  to  the  proud  pre- 
eminence of  being  the  leading  Cana- 
dian female  novelist.      Miss  Duncan, 

•Toronto:  The  Copp,  Clark  Co. 
fBoston:  H.  B.  Turner  &  Co. 


now  Mrs.  Cotes,  held  that  position  for 
many  years;  but  while  Mrs.  Cotes' 
work  has  been  going  off.  Miss  Jones 
has  been  giving  signs  of  unmistakable 
genius.  "Bubbles  We  Buy"  was 
good,  "  Gabriel  Praed's  Castle "  is 
better.  A  Canadian  who  has  become 
suddenly  rich,  mainly  through  profit- 
able mining  investments,  goes  to  Paris 
with  his  daughter.  They  are  taken  in 
hand  by  one  of  those  clever  women 
who  make  a  business  of  introducing 
rich  strangers  to  dealers  in  pictures, 
antiques  and  modish  costumes.  They 
have  some  experiences  which  illustrate 
the  peculiarities  of  life  in  Paris — the 
art  life,  the  tradesman  life,  the  social 
life.  The  love  story  of  the  Canadian 
girl  and  an  American  artist  is  an  inter- 
esting feature.  The  deceptions  prac- 
tised by  a  dealer  in  antiques  and  the 
part  played  by  a  clever  female  model 
in  luring  the  old  gentleman  to  pur- 
chase the  contents  of  an  old  castle, 
supply  the  most  exciting  scenes  in  a 
book  which  is  bright,  lively  and  vivid. 

BRITISH  AUTHORS 

THE  author  of  "Wee  MacGreegor" 
has  a  newer  and  longer  story, 
"Jess  &  Co.,"  for  this  season.  It  will 
be  issued  in  Canada  by  the  Copp, 
Clark  Co. 

W.  H.  Fitchett,  editor  of  the  ^«5/ra- 
lian  Review  of  Reviews  for  many  years 
and  now  editor  of  Australian  Life,  the 
leading  six-penny  monthly  in  that 
colony,  is  a  writer  of  popular  historical 
works.  "Deeds  that  Won  the  Empire" 
was  well  received.  The  Copp,  Clark 
Co.  will  issue  his  new  book,  "The 
Commander  of  the  Hirondelle." 

Morang  &  Co.  will  issue  the  latest 
novels  by  Hall  Caine  and  S.  R. 
Crockett,  though  there  is  little  reason 
for  Canadian  attention  to  these  prolific 
and  persistent  pen-scratchers.  Justin 
McCarthy's  "An  Irishman's  Story" 
will  probably  be  worth  while,  and  so 
will  Stephen  Gwynn's  "The  Masters  of 
English  Literature." 

The  London  Studio  still  continues  to 
be  the  best  shilling  art  journal  in  the 
world.      It  is  sold  iDy  the  leading  book- 


ABOUT  NEW  BOOKS 


9» 


sellers  here,  and  its  sales  would  be 
considerably  greater  were  it  not  that 
the  British  Government  taxes  the 
colonial  eight  cents  a  pound  for  postage 
on  all  British  monthlies.  This  mag- 
nificently printed  and  illustrated  publi- 
cation should  have  a  wider  circulation 
in  Canada  than  it  has,  for  it  certainly 
is  "the  best  value." 

The  average  student  of  English  will 
find  Professor  Meiklejohn's  last  volume 
a  most  comprehensive  summary.  It  is 
entitled  "English  Literature:  a  New 
History  and  Survey  from  Saxon  Times 
to  the  Death  of  Tennyson."  It  is  an 
excellent  book  of  reference,  with  splen- 
did perspective,  and  well-chosen  quota- 
tions from  the  authors'  writings  and 
from  the  dicta  of  their  critics.  (Lon- 
don: Meiklejohn  &  Holden,  ii  Pater- 
noster Square,  E.C.  Large  octavo, 
650  pp.) 

It  has  been  said  that  the  British 
writer  of  short  stories  who  comes 
nearest  to  De  Maupassant  is  Rudyard 
Kipling.  De  Maupassant  was  often 
filthy,  judged  by  our  standards  ;  Kip- 
ling is  brutal  according  to  French 
standards.  Each  has  his  merits,  but 
to  compare  the  two  is  to  compliment 
each.  In  his  latest  volume  "  Traffics 
and  Discoveries"  we  have  a  volume  of 
short  stories  almost  if  not  quite  equal 
to  Mr.  Kipling's  best.  Some  are  of 
India,  some  of  the  sea,  some  of  the 
fancy.  Under  the  latter  division  come 
"The  Return  of  the  Children,"  and 
"The  Army  of  a  Dream."  Both  are 
wonderfully  clever  and  the  former 
exquisitely  touching.  (Toronto  :  Mor- 
ang  &  Co.) 

Marie  Corelli's  new  novel  "God's 
Good  Man  "  is  an  attempt  to  portray 
the  character  of  a  type  of  country 
clergyman.  It  is  a  fair  attempt,  too. 
**  The  Reverend  John  Walden  was  one 
of  those  rarely  gifted  individuals  who 
cannot  assume  an  aspect  which  is 
foreign  to  temperament.  He  was  of  a 
cheerful,  even  sanguine  disposition, 
and  his  countenance  faithfully  reflected 
the  ordinary  bent  of  his  humour." 
Yet  John  Walden  is  not  entirely  a  saint  ; 
he  has  human  traits  as  most  of  Miss 
Corelli's  characters  have.      Neither  is 


the  book  devoid  of  the  love-story  ele- 
ment, for  John  Walden  is  introduced 
as  an  old  bachelor  and  dismissed 
as  a  benedict.  (Toronto :  William 
Briggs.) 

Just  at  this  time  a  novel  with  a  Rus- 
sian setting  should  meet  with  much 
interest,  if  that  novel  be  worthy. 
"Hearts  in  Exile,"  by  John  Oxen- 
ham,  is  worthy.  It  depicts  the  long, 
slow  struggle  against  autocracy  and 
bureaucracy,  the  lives  broken  in  the 
cause  of  reform,  the  hearts  shattered, 
the  hopes  dismayed,  the  great  struggle 
which  lies  between  ignorance  and  in- 
telligence in  a  nation.  And  yet  the 
novel  is  not  too  ponderous  ;  it  is  a 
simple  story.  (Toronto  :  The  Copp, 
Clark  Co. ) 

CANADI.AN  AUTHORS 

DR.  DRUMMOND  is  preparing  a 
new  volume  of  poems,  but  it  will 
not  be  issued  before  February.  Mr. 
Coburn  will  do  the  illustrating. 

"Doctor  Luke  of  the  Labrador,"  by 
Norman  Duncan,  is  now  running  seri- 
ally in  the  Toronto  Globe.  It  will  be 
issued  in  book  form  bv  the  Revell 
Co. 

Mr.  Thompson-Seton  will  have  a 
new  animal  book  this  season.  It  will 
be  issued  by  Scribners. 

"Sportsman  Joe, "by  Edwyn  Sandys, 
is  about  ready.  Macmillans  are  the 
publishers. 

"By  the  Queen's  Grace,"  Mrs. 
Sheard's  new  novel,  will  be  profusely 
illustrated.  William  Briggs  will  have 
an  edition  here. 

Mr.  Eraser's  volume  of  animal  stories 
has  been  delayed,  and  will  not  be  issued 
this  season. 

Professor  Goldwin  Smith's  "My 
Memorj'  of  Gladstone"  has  been  issued 
here  by  Tyrrell. 

"The  Prospector,"  by  Ralph  Connor, 
now  running  serially  in  the  Westminster, 
will  be  issued  shortly  in  book  form  by 
the  Westminster  Co. 

"A  Chicago  Princess,"  by  Robert 
Barr,  will  be  issued  here  by  McLeod  & 
Allen. 

Langton  &  Hall  will  issue  the  Cana- 


92 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


dian  edition  of  Miss  L.  Dougall's  new 
story,  "The  Earthly  Purgatory." 

"Pathfinders  of  the  West,"  by  Agnes 
C.  Laut,  will  be  issued  here  by  William 
Briggs.     Cloth,   illustrated,  $1.50. 

A  new  volume  of  Canadian  poetry, 
"Between  the  Lights,"  by  Isabel  E. 
Mackay,  is  an  addition  to  the  long 
"poetry"  list  of  William  Briggs.  The 
posthumous  volume  of  poems  by  James 
A.  Tucker  will  be  issued  by  the  same 
publisher,  with  a  biographical  memo- 
rial by  Arthur  Stringer. 

L.  C.  Page  &  Co.,  of  Boston, 
announce  a  story  by  Theodore  Roberts, 
with  the  title  "Hemming  the  Adven- 
turer." Mr.  Roberts  has  been  in  the 
West  Indies  since  his  marriage. 

An  interesting  announcement  made 
by  William  Briggs  is  of  a  forthcoming 
volume  of  the  Speeches  of  the  Hon. 
John  Charlton,  who,  after  many  years 
in  the  Dominion  House,  has  decided, 
owing  to  ill-health,  not  to  offer  himself 
for  re-election  in  his  old  constituency 
of  the  north  riding  of  Norfolk  county. 
The  book  will  be  a  substantial  volume 
of  some  five  hundred  pages,  containing 
addresses  on  a  wide  variety  of  topics, 
most  of  them  on  public  questions  of 
the  day. 

A  volume  on  Muskoka,  by  Mrs. 
Potts,  of  Port  Sandfield,  an  English 
lady  who  has  resided  in  Muskoka  for 
many  years  and  become  enamoured 
of  its  attractions  as  a  summer  resort, 
is  now  in  the  press  and  will  soon 
appear  bearing  the  imprint  of  William 
Briggs. 

Bliss  Carman  will  add  a  prose 
volume  to  his  list,  with  the  title 
"Friendship  of  Art."  The  fourth 
volume  of  his  "Pipes  of  Pan"  will  be 
added  to  the  verse  list. 

The  Hon.  J.  W.  Longley  has  written 
a  life  of  Joseph  Howe,  which  is  shortly 
to  appear  in  a  "subscription"  edition, 
and  perhaps  later  on  in  a  popular  edi- 
tion. 

William  Briggs  is  publishing  some 
very  tasteful  booklets  of  Canadian 
verse     for    the    Christmas    demands. 


Besides  Miss  Isabel  Graham's  "A  Song 
of  December,"  already  issued,  and  very 
favourably  received  by  the  public,  a 
collection  of  poems  for  the  various 
months  of  the  year,  by  Mrs.  Annie  L. 
Jack,  of  Chateauguay  Basin,  P.Q., 
will  be  published  in  a  pretty  brochure 
with  the  title,  "Rhyme-Thoughts  for 
a  Canadian  Year."  A  western  writer, 
Miss  Marion  E.  Moodie,  of  Frank, 
Alberta,  makes  a  bid  for  recognition  in 
a  tasteful  booklet  of  "Songs  of  the 
West."  This  is  an  excellent  way 
for  our  writers  of  verse  to  get  their 
literary  works  on  the  market.  These 
pretty  brochures  should  find  a  ready 
sale. 

"A  Parson's  Ponderings"  is  the  title 
of  a  collection  of  literary  essays  by 
Rev.  Canon  Low,  of  Billings'  Bridge, 
author  of  "The  Old  Faith  and  the  New 
Philosophy." 

A  work  entitled  "Canaan  and 
Canada,"  by  the  Rev.  D.  V.  Lucas, 
D.  D.,  author  of  "Australia  and  Home- 
ward," will  be  published  this  month  by 
William  Briggs. 

"Harold  Bowdrin's  Investment"  is 
the  title  of  a  recently  published  story 
by  Mrs.  Hattie  E.  Cotter,  of  Frederic- 
ton,  N.B.,  a  writer  of  several  stories 
published  in  England  and  the  United 
States. 


NOTES 

The  Musson  Book  Co, ,  Toronto, 
will  this  season  issue  a  half  dozen 
volumes,  of  which  the  most  important 
will  probably  be  "The  Seeker,"  by 
Henry  Leon  Wilson.  "The  Spenders," 
by  this  writer,  is  a  splendid  book,  and 
well  worth  reading  by  anyone  with 
courage  enough  to  brave  public  opinion 
and  read  a  book  published  two  years 
ago. 

The  Poole  Publishing  Co.  announce 
"River- Laid"  by  R.  W.  Chambers; 
"Nostrours:  a  Tale  of  the  Seaboard," 
by  Joseph  Conrad;  "The  Lady  of 
Loyalty  House,"  by  Justin  H.  McCarthy, 
and  a  half  dozen  other  books. 


oment-s. 


t 


THE    BIG   FOUR 

AN  amusing  incident  is  told  of  a  clever 
Yankee  who  visited  old  Dal- 
housie  college,  at  Halifax,  some  years 
ago,  for  the  purpose  of  selling  a  lift- 
ing machine  to  the  gymnasium. 

He  had  been  travelling  considerably 
among  the  different  colleges,  and  had 
found  his  machine  so  well  adapted  to 
amateur  athletics  that  he  commended 
it  with  a  considerable  degree  of  confi- 
dence and  a  good  deal  of  fluency. 

Four  youths  from  Cape  Breton  were 
seated  on  a  bench,  listening  to  the 
drummer,  with  some  amusement: 

•'  Perhaps,"  said  he,  one  of  the 
young  men  over  there  would  give  the 
machine  a  test  to  see  how  it  will  do." 

With  some  little  demur,  one  youth 
at  the  end  of  the  bench  walked  up, 
took  hold  of  the  machine  and  set  it 
up  till  the  indicator  would  go  no  fur- 
ther. 

The  next  youth  was  invited  to  try. 
He  took  hold  of  the  machine  with  a 
similar  result.  The  agent's  eyes  be- 
gan to  open,  but  he  invited  the  third 
youth  to  try.   The  result  was  as  before. 

"  Well,"  exclaimed  the  drummer, 
"  I  never!  "  Let's  see  you  have  a  lift 
at  it,"  turning  to  the  fourth  man. 

With  a  smile  the  fourth  stepped  up 
and  set  the  indicator  round  with  a  jerk 
almost  enough  to  break  the  machine. 

"Jupiter,  Hercules,  Samson  and 
Goliath!"  exclaimed  the  drummer. 
"  Will  you  tell  me  where  you  were 
growed  ?" 

*'  Oh,  faix,  we  juist  cam'  fraeCa'  Bre- 
ton, over,"  said  one  of  the  boys,  in  an 
inimitable  tone  of  Irish,  Scotch  and 
Gaelic  mixed. 

"  Well,  gentlemen,  I  wasn't  carryin' 
samples  for  giants.  But  I  can  supply 
you.     Just  give  me  your  order,    and 


my  firm  will  put  a  special  machine  at 
rock  bottom  prices  when  I  tell  'em  who 
it's  ior."—F.   W.  M. 


THE  STORY  OF  THE  R.O.G. 

A  RICH  old  gentleman,  who  was  in 
poor  health,  returned  to  the  home 
of  his  youth  after  an  absence  of  many 
years,  to  find  himself  eagerly  welcomed 
by  his  relatives,  two  families  of  whom 
were  settled  near  him. 

One  of  these  showed  him  tearfully 
how  poor  and  needy  they  were.  The 
father  was  crippled  from  rheumatism; 
the  mother  had  lost  the  use  of  her  right 
hand;  the  oldest  son  was  out  of  a  posi- 
tion, and  the  daughters  were  breaking 
down  from  overwork  and  insufficient 
food.  Their  every  act  was  character- 
ised by  a  poverty  as  distressing  as  it 
was  irritating. 

The  other  family  were  as  poor  as  the 
first,  but  they  managed  it  differently. 
They  wore  their  best  clothes  when  they 
went  to  see  their  aged  relative,  talked 
largely  of  moneyed  operations,  and 
went  without  their  meals  to  hire  a 
swell  turnout  in  which  to  show  him  the 
beauties  of  the  place.  In  fine,  they 
posed  as  charming  people  and  eman- 
ated that  air  of  prosperity  which  is  so 
graceful  and  comforting. 

When  the  R.O.G.  made  his  will  he 
said  to  the  lawyer,  benevolently: 

"I  wish  to  leave  my  indigent  rela- 
tives two  hundred  pounds,  for  they  are 
very  needy,  and  a  little  will  go  a  long 
way  with  them,  poor  things.  As  for 
the  other  family" — 

"You  wish  to  leave  them  two  hun- 
dred also  ?"  asked  the  too  hasty  lawyer. 

•'By  no  means,"  replied  the  R.O.G. , 
in  horror.  "People  in  their  position 
would  be  insulted  with  such  a  small 


94 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


THE   FUNNY   SIDE   OF    UNITED   STATES    POLITICS 


it  is  old  or  new  as  a  per- 
sonal episode  of  that  great 
man  I  do  not  know.  It  is 
that  he  wrote  a  book  some 
time  ago  entitled  "Forty- 
five  Mornings,"  and  asked 
Robert  Barr  to  read  it  in 
manuscript.  Mr.  Barr  said 
it  was  as  good  as  "  Plain 
Tales  from  the  Hills."  "Not 
better?"  asked  Kipling. 

"  No,  I  don't  think  it  is," 
answered  Barr.  "Then," 
replied  Kipling,  "it  won't 
get  published,"  and  there 
and  then  he  cast  it  to  the 
flames.  It  seems  a  pity  Mr. 
Barr  was  not  at  his  elbow 
when  he  wrote  his  spasm 
about  Joseph.  His  friend 
might  have  craved  permis- 
sion to  publish  it  as  a  pipe 
light. 


The  Hero— "Take  that,  and  that,  villain!" 
Villain  (aside) — "Oh,  Theodore,  stop  it,  you're  tickling 
me  so!" — Cleveland  Plain  Dealer. 


gift;  you  must  remember  that  they  are 
accustomed  to  money.  Put  them  down 
for  ten  thousand." 

Moral. — Environment  tells. 


ANECDOTES 

An  English  manufacturer,  who  has 
just  returned  from  a  tour  in  Scotland, 
is  relating  an  amusing  incident  which 
occurred  duringhis  trip. 

In  a  remote  village  in  the  Lowlands 
he  came  across  an  inhabitant  of  such 
venerable  appearance  that  he  stopped 
to  chat  with  him. 

"  By-the-way,  what  is  your  name?" 
inquired  the  traveller.  "  Robert 
Burns,"  was  the  answer.  "Dear 
me!  that's  a  very  well-known  name." 
"  Nae  doot  it  is,  mon;  I've  been  black- 
smith in  this  village  for  nigh  on  sixty 
years. " 

Somebody  told  a  story  about  Rud- 
yard  Kipling  the  other  day,  and  whether 


At  the  recent  commence- 
ment of  the  University  of 
Philadelphia  a  visitor  at  the 
ceremonies  was  joking  with 
Provost  Harrison  upon  the  subject  of 
"his  busy  season,"  when  so  many  gifts 
are  made  to  the  colleges  conditional 
upon  other  sums  of  money  to  be  raised 
within  a  specified  time. 

"Speaking  of  that,  I  heard  a  good 
one  the  other  day  on  President  Har- 
per," replied  the  provost,  as  if  to  guide 
the  conversation  out  of  a  channel 
which  might  become  a  little  personal. 
"A  friend  of  mine  was  walking  down  a 
street  in  the  residence  district  of  Chi- 
cago, when  he  noticed  that  every 
house  in  the  block  was  absolutely 
deserted.  As  he  put  it,  it  was  for  all 
the  world  as  if  the  citizens  had  fled 
from  their  homes.  "  What  is  the 
cause  of  this?"  he  asked  a  gentleman 
who  chanced  to  pass,  and  the  man  re- 
plied quite  seriously: 

"  Rockefeller  has  given  another  mil- 
lion to  the  university,  but  to  get  it 
Harper  has  to  raise  half  a  million  be- 
fore sunset.  He  is  said  to  be  on  his 
way  to  this  part  of  the  town. " 


RAILWAYS  AT  ST.  LOUIS 

THE  Grand  Trunk  Booth  was  an 
important  feature  of  Canada's 
display  at  St.  Louis.  It  was  small, 
but  admirably  designed  and  furnished. 
The  wonderful  natural  scenery  of  our 
country  was  pictured  in  such  a  way  as 
to  attract  the  attention  of  tourists  and 
sportsmen.  Canada  is  under  obliga- 
tion to  her  broad-minded  railway  man- 
agers for  the  excellent  displays  they 
have  always  made  on  occasions  of  this 
kind,  and  for  the  imposing  presenta- 
tion of  Canada's  natural  beauties  which 
they  are  continually  giving  to  the  trav- 
elling public. 

The  Intercolonial  Railway  Exhibit 
was  one  of  the  best  parts  of  the  Ca- 
nadian contribution  to  the  world's  dis- 
plays. The  space  occupied  by  it  was 
large  and  attractively  furnished.  The 
New  Brunswick  moose,  caribou  and 
deer  were  represented  by  some  mag- 
nificent heads.  The 
excellent  fish  of  the 
district  through 
which  the  Interco- 
lonial passes  were 
also  well  displayed. 
Some  time  ago, 
while  travelling  on 
this  road  from 
Montreal  east,  the 
writer  met  an  expa- 
triated Canadian 
returning  home 
after  an  absence  of 
fifteen  years.  He 
explained  that  h^ 
had  visited  the  In- 
tercolonial Exhibit 
and  it  made  him  so 
homesick  that  he 
determined  to  make 
a  visit  at  once.    So, 


with  his  wife  and  three  small  chil- 
dren, he  was  on  his  way  home  to  see 
his  old  mother,  who  still  lived  near 
Campbellton. 


DUNRAVENS 
OME    Rule 


NEW   MOVE 
other 


HOME    Rule    by    any 
would  smell  as  sweet 


name 
Thus 

the  Freeman  s  Journal;  and  the  phrase 
is  perhaps  the  best  commentary  that 
could  be  made  on  the  misguided,  if 
amiable  programme  which  Lord  Dun- 
raven's  Irish  Reform  Association — a 
phoenix  from  the  ashes  of  the  old  Land 
Conference  Committee — has  promul- 
gated. Lord  Dunraven  and  his  friends, 
of  course,  declare  that  the  maintenance 
of  the  Parliamentary  Union  is  "essen- 
tial to  the  political  stability  of  the  Em- 
pire," but  they  advocate  "  the  devolu- 
tion to  Ireland  o\  a  larger  measure  of 
local  Government."     The  Nationalists' 


ST.  LOLIS — THE   DAIIfTV   BOOTH   OF   THE  GRAND   TRUNK   RAILWAY 


96 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


ST.  LOUIS — THE   INTERCOIX)NIAL   RAILWAY  S  ATTRACTIVE  AVENUE 


action  in  the  matter  of  the  working  of 
the  Land  Purchase  Act  is  the  measure 
of  their  readiness  to  rest  content  with 
any  allowance  of  "local  autonomy" 
such  as  the  Irish  Reform  Association 
contemplates.  Whilst  the  Times  sees 
in  the  new  proposals  a  peril  to  the 
Union,  Mr.  Davitt  regards  them  as  a 
subtle  enticement  to  Nationalist  dis- 
ruption, Mr.  Redmond  finds  them  use- 
ful in  helping  the  circulation  of  the 
Home  Rule  hat  in  the  States,  and  Mr. 
O'Brien  adopts  the  placid  role  of  Brer 
Rabbit.  The  proposals  are  open  to 
adverse  criticism  on  two  grounds:  they 
are  at  least  premature,  and  they  are  too 
indefinite.  But  their  discussion  has 
served  to  draw  serious  attention  to  the 
shortcomings  of  the  Government. 
There  is  an  ugly  rumour  abroad  that 
Mr.  Wyndham  has  lost  interest  in  his 
task.      It  is  scarcely  to  be  wondered  at 


if   this    is  so,   but    the  fact  would  be 

lamentable      for       all  that. — Public 
Opinion. 

* 

STREET   RAILWAY   PROFITS 

TORONTO  is  now  receiving  about 
$ioo  a  day  from  her  street  rail- 
way franchise.  Montreal  is  also  find- 
ing her  arrangement  with  the  street 
railway  company  profitable,  as  will  be 
seen  from  the  following  from  the  Mon- 
treal Gazette:  "The  city  this  year  is 
to  get  $127,483  from  the  street  rail- 
way, which  is  about  5^  percent,  of  its 
gross  earnings  within  the  city.  The 
proportion  will  increase  also  as  the 
earnings  of  the  company  grow.  There 
have  been  worse  bargains  made  from 
the  municipal  point  of  view  than  that 
by  which  the  street  railway  got  a  fran- 
chise in  Montreal." 


THE 


CANADIAN  Magazine 


VOL.   XXIV 


TORONTO,    DECEMBER,    1904 


No.   2 


FROM  CANADA  TO  TONGALAND 


Bv  A.    T.    WATERS 


SECOND  PAPER 

S  stated  in  the  preceding 
article.  Ngwanasi,  now 
paramount  chief  of  British 
Tongaland,  was  king  of 
both  the  Tongalands  — 
British  and  Portuguese — previous  to 
1897.  He  had  come  to  the  throne  in 
early  childhood,  upon  the  death  of  his 
father,  Msonge.  In  1897,  when  he 
was  about  twenty-five  years  of  age, 
the  Portuguese  of  the  Delagoa  Bay 
district  accused  him  of  insubordina- 
tion to  their  power,  and  made  war 
upon  him;  but,  after  making  a  slight 
resistance,  Ngwanasi  fled  to  the 
southern  part  of  his  kingdom.  Here 
he  called  upon  the  British  colony  of 
Natal  for  protec- 
tion, and  to  take 
control  of  his  re- 
maining territory. 
In  the  same  year 
a  treaty  was  made 
between  the  British 
and  Portuguese, 
establi  s  h  i  n  g  a 
boundary  line  be- 
tween them.  This 
made  the  present 
territories  of 
British  Tongaland 
and  Portuguese 
Tongaland,  the 
latter  being  much 
the  larger  and 
more  valuable  pos 
session. 

Still    another 
treaty  was  effected 


between  Ngwanasi  and  the  Natal 
government,  and  this  gave  to  him  an 
annual  cash  stipend  of  one  hundred 
pounds.  It  also  relegated  him  to  the 
paramount  chieftainship  of  the  re- 
mainder of  his  tribe,  with  jurisdiction 
only  over  minor  offences. 

This  territory,  about  fifty  miles 
square,  is  bounded  on  the  east  by  the 
Indian  Ocean,  on  the  south  by  Zulu- 
land,  on  I  he  west  by  the  Pongola  River, 
and  on  the  north  by  an  imaginary  line 
running  east  from  the  Sutu  Port  in  the 
Lubambo  mountains  to  Oro  Point  on 
the  Indian  Ocean. 

The  port  of  entry  is  Delagoa  Bay, 
importations  passing  through  the  Por- 
tuguese   territory   "  in    transit  "     at   a 


TONGALAND — THE    AfTHOR    IN    HIS   Bt'NGALOW 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


WOMEN     BRINGING     THEIR    ANNUAL     FOOD-TAX     TO    THE 

CHIEF.       THESE   WOMEN    HAD   TO   CARRY    IT 

TWENTY-TWO   MILES 


nominal  duty  of  three  per  cent. 

The  country,  a  low  veldt,  is  only 
two  or  three  hundred  feet  above  sea 
level,  and  this,  in  part,  accounts  for 
its  malarial  climate.  It  possesses  a 
sandy  soil,  with  no  rock  formation, 
and  large  portions  of  its  surface  con- 
sist of  broad,  grassy  plains  dotted  here 
and  there  with  the  lala  palm,  from 
which  is  drawn  the  famous  "palm 
wine."  Other  districts  are  rolling  and 
hilly,  covered  with  grass  and  dotted 
with  single  fruit  trees,  or 
patched  here  and  there 
with  clumps  of  bush. 
This,  however,  applies 
only  to  the  eastern  half, 
forests,  lakes  and  reedy 
marshes  covering  the 
western  part.  In  the 
east,  Kosi  Lake,  which 
the  Boers  greatly  coveted 
as  a  port,  is  the  largest 
body  of  water.  It  is  some 
five  or  six  miles  long,  and 
two  or  three  miles  wide; 
and  is  united  with  the 
Indian  Ocean  by  Kosi  Bay 
and  a  series  of  lagoons. 
The  hippopotamus  and 
crocodile  infest  nearly  all 
these  waters.  Some  ten 
or  twelve  brooks,  called 
"rivers,"  give  the  land 
a  fair  supply  of  water, 
which  is  pure  and  of  ex- 


cellent taste.  These 
"rivers"  run,  as  a  rule, 
from  west  to  east,  slip- 
ping over  silver  or 
golden  sands. 

British  Tongaland  is 
the  most  beautiful 
district  I  have  seen  in 
South  Africa.  Its  lati- 
tude is  26°  south  (the 
same  as  Johannesburg), 
its  climate  is  mild,  and 
frost  is  unknown.  The 
seasons  are  practically 
only  two  in  number — 
the  wet  and  the  dry 
periods,  called  winter 
and  summer,  rains 
being  expected  any  time 
from  October  to  February.  The  mean 
temperature  runs  about  80''  or  85*^  F. 
One  hundred  and  twenty-two  degrees 
in  the  sun  was  the  highest  record  I  ob- 
served, but  that  was  hot  enough  to 
keep  the  natives  from  travelling  in  the 
sand  paths,  and  to  cause  insects  and 
small  reptiles,  such  as  lizards  and 
snakes,  to  fall  from  the  interior  of  the 
thatched  roofs  with  heat  exhaustion. 
Birds,  also,  have  been  known  to  drop 
dead    when    flying    out    from    shelter. 


A    FEW    OF    THE   CHIEFS   WIVES.       HE    HAS   ABOUT    SIXTY, 
BUT  THEY   DO   NOT   ALL   LIVE   TOGETHER 


FROM  CANADA    TO  TONGA  LAND 


lOI 


As  the  sun  is  to  the  north,  shadows 
are  cast  toward  the  south,  and  for 
some  time  are  confusing  to  the  north- 
erner. 

With    fruits    indigenous    to    it  this 
little  country  is   marvellously  rich.     It 
has  no  fewer  than   fifty  different  vari- 
eties, among  these  being  the  wild  fig 
and  date.      Most  of  these  are  edible, 
and  many  decidedly 
palatable  ;    and,  to 
add    to    this    rich- 
ness, the  "civilised" 
pineapple,  banana 
and  granadilla  have 
recently  been  intro- 
duced. It  is  strange, 
however,  that  there 
is  not  a  nut-bearing  ^ 

tree  in  the  land. 

In  the  rainy 
season  this  is  a 
wilderness  of  wild 
flowers  —  perhaps 
one  hundred  and 
fifty  or  two  hundred 
varieties.  I  remem- 
ber one  Sunday 
morning,  in  March, 
travelling  through 
a  forest  waggon 
road  which  was  like 
a  river  of  glory. 

The  population 
was  estimated  at 
between  ten  and 
twelve  thousand. 
Two  languages,  the 
Tshronga  and  the 
Zulu,  are  used.  The 
native  language  is 
the  former,  but  all 
the  males,  and 
many  of  the  women, 

speak  the  Zulu.  Indeed,  they  are 
proud  to  speak  Zulu,  for  many  of  them 
meanly  despise  their  own  dialect  and 
claim  Zulu  blood.  This  weakness  pre- 
vails, first,  because  the  Zulus  have  a 
"big  name"  among  the  tribes  and, 
secondly,  because  the  word  "Tonga" 
means  coward.  The  odium  of  this  name 
was  emphasised  by  the  chief's  correct- 
ing me  in  the  use  of  it  one  day.  He 
protested  that  his  whole  kingdom  was 


Maputaland,  not  Tongaland,  Maputa 
being  the  name  of  one  of  their  ancestral 
kings. 

In  common  with  other  .\fricans, 
these  people  are  called  black,  but  in 
reality  they  are  chocolate  brown. 
Only  odd  members  of  the  tribe  are  jet 
black,  like  our  American  negro.  But 
in     Delagoa    Bay,    a    hundred    miles 


/ 


THE  QCEEN-MOTHER 

DKAWX   BT  }.    W.    BKATTY 

north,  in  the  old  Tonga  Kingdom,  one 
is  struck  with  the  number  resembling 
the  American  black.  Tradition  says 
that  slaves  were  taken  to  America 
from  northern  Tongaland,  but  never 
from  the  southern  parts,  and  that 
these  southerners  are  a  mixture  of 
East  Indian  blood  from  a  ship's  crew 
wrecked  on  their  shores  long  ago. 
Personally,  I  doubt  it;  for  though 
these  Tongas  are  quite  free  from  the 


I02 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


MR.     LINDFIELD    PREACHING    TO     A    WEDDING 

KRAAL   OF    INDUNA    POMPE.       LATER,    MR. 

WAS    KILLED    BY    A   CROCODILE 


negro  features — thick  lips  and  broad 
noses — and  have  what  might  be  termed 
classical  features,  yet  they  have  the 
typical  "kinky"  hair  of  the  negro, 
and  not  that  of  the  Indian,  which,  so 
far  as  I  have  observed,  always  persists 
in  the  cross  of  these  two  races. 

The  people  are  tractable,  industri- 
ous, courteous,  hospitable,  and  apt  in 
receiving  the  first  fruits  of  civilisation. 
The  young  people  learn  to  read  and 
write  in  Zulu,  showing  decided  ability, 
and  are  responsive  to  religious  teach- 
ing. In  these  things 
they  are  in  marked  con- 
trast with  their  unin- 
viting Swazi  and  Zulu 
neighbours,  while  their 
home  conduct  is  also 
more  agreeable. 

The  Tonga  home  is 
called  a  Kraal,  and  may 
consist  of  only  one  or 
of  many  huts.  The 
largest  kraal  in  British 
Tongaland  contains 
fifteen  huts.  The  Tonga 
hut  is  far-famed  for 
beauty  and  comfort,  and 
is  considered  the  finest 
native  architecture  in 
South  Africa.  The  walls 
are  circular  and  made  of 
reeds  five  or  six  feet 
high,  these  being-  woven 


to  a  wicker  frame-work 
with  the  fibrous  leaf  of 
the  palm  tree.  Many 
of  the  woven  designs 
on  walls  and  roof  have 
a  surprisingly  fine, 
artistic  effect,  and  go 
far  to  justify  the  high 
esteem  in  which  the 
Tonga,  as  compared 
with  other  Africans,  is 
held  tor  his  skill  in  art. 
Stout  posts  are  set 
around  outside  to  sup- 
port the  wall.  The  roof, 
of  woven  twigs,  is  made 
separately,  and  presents 
the  form  of  an  inverted 
umbrella.  It  is  taken 
up  bodily  by,  perhaps, 
a  dozen  men  and  women,  who,  groan- 
ing, yelling,  and  singing — shouting  to 
the  owner  to  get  the  beer  ready  ! — place 
it  upon  the  circular  wall  like  a  hat.  A 
great  cheer  is  given  by  all,  and  they 
jump  and  tear  about  like  boys  after 
successful  sport.  The  roof  is  then 
thatched  with  grass,  the  door  of  reeds 
is  made,  and  the  hut  is  done,  barring, 
of  course,  the  "umqele"  (crown),  which 
helps  to  hold  the  thatch  in  position  and 
adorns  the  top  of  the  roof.  When  the 
owner  of  the  hut  dies  this   crown    is 


DANCE    AT    THE 
LINDFIELD 


IN    THE    "BUSH    VELDT       OF   SWAZILAND 

The  author  may  be  seen  sitting  on  a  bundle  of  thatching  grass  preach- 
ing in  Zulu  to  the  Swazies.  In  the  foreground  is  the  Kraal  fence.  Just 
behind  the  group  of  people  are  seen  wind-breaks,  which  are  built  to  protect 
the  hut  entrance  and  to  form  an  "outside  kitchen." 


FROM  CANADA   TO  TONGALAND 


103 


immediately  taken  down  and  the  hut 
closed,  all  personal  effects  placed  under 
the  eaves  outside,  and  the  whole  allowed 
to  go  to  decay.  Closed  huts  are  never 
burned,  so  there  are  hundreds  of  them 
standing  as  monuments  throughout  the 
land. 

The  membership  of  a  kraal  consists 
of  family 
relati  o  n  s 
only.  The 
"umnum- 
zana,"  or 
head  man, 
is  responsi- 
ble to  the 
chief  for 
the  conduct 
of  the  whole 
kraal. 

When  I 
entered  the 
country  as 
pioneer 
missionary 
and  first 
go  V  e  r  n  - 
ment  act- 
ing district 
surgeon, in 
C899,  ^^^ 
clothing  of 
the  men 
and  boys 
was  still 
primitive, 
the  simple 
girdle  of 
skins,  while 
the  girls 
wore  nar- 
row girdles  NAri\h   Wi'.MI" 

of  sea- weed 
or  bead- 
work.  The  women,  though,  had  begun 
to  use  the  cheap,  loud  prints  from 
the  Manchester  mills,  exchanging  for 
these  the  excellent,  short  skin  petti- 
coat which  is  still  worn  by  the  women 
of  Zululand  and  Swaziland.  Every 
man  is  his  own  tailor,  and  every  girl 
and  young  woman  her  own  dress- 
maker. 

The  only  professional  tradesman  is 
the  hairdresser,  who  makes  with  bees- 


1^0-^' 


wax  the  "  head  rings"  on  men  of  dis- 
tinction. In  this  operation  all  the 
hair,  except  a  circle  about  the  crown 
of  the  head,  is  shaved  with  a  piece  of 
glass  or  an  old  table-knife,  sharpened 
on  a  piece  of  flat,  sand-sprinkled 
wood.  The  hair  is  then  worked  down 
over  a  circle  of  fibre   rope,  repeatedly 

smeared 
with  black 
beesw  ax , 
and  skil- 
fully polish- 
ed with  a 
flat  polish- 
ing stick 
till  it  shines 
like  ebony. 
This  ring  is 
nicknamed 
**  fry  ing- 
pan,"  and 
in  Swazi- 
land and 
Zululand  is 
a  mark  of 
manh  00  d 
or  of  the 
**  indoda.  " 
In  those 
tribes,  how- 
ever, every 
Tom,  Dick 
and  Harry 
may  wear 
it — in  fact, 
anyone 
who  is  past 
puberty  and 
can  pay  the 
barber  a 
I  vMi  shilling  for 

his  day's 
work.  A 
young  married  woman  will  for  days  in 
succession  spend  her  time  sprawled 
out  on  the  sand  in  the  kraal  yard, 
while  three  or  four  of  her  companions 
"put  up"  her  hair  into  hundreds  of 
tiny  braids,  which  are  smeared  with 
fat  and  red  clay. 

The  etiquette  of  this  people  is  clearly 
defined.  To  know  it  and  conform  to 
it  is  the  part  of  the  prudent  mis- 
sionary.    To   knock  at  the  door  of  a 


104 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


A    ROOF    FOR   A    HUT — WHEN    COMPLETED,    IT 

IS    PICKED    UP,    TURNED    OVER   AND 

SET   ON   THE    WALL 


hut  before  entering  would  betray  one's 
ignorance,  and  would  likely  be  mis- 
taken for  disregard  of  their  good 
forms.  Or,  if  one  chooses  to  be  received 
outside  he  may  take  a  seat  under  a 
tree  and  wait  for  the  head  man  to 
come  and  greet  him ;  but  this  he  will 
not  do  until  you  have  waited  ten  or 
fifteen  minutes,  for  to  hasten  the 
greeting  would  be  impolite.  He  will 
finally  stroll  over  to  your  side  with 
amusing  deliberation,  pretending  not 
to  see  you,  and  squat  down  upon  his 
haunches.  Then  he  will 
adjust  the  tails  of  his  skin 
girdle  and  stare  blankly  at 
nothing,  or  continue  to 
carve  at  his  knobkerrie  or 
weave  at  his  mat.  Sud- 
denly he  discovers  your 
presence,  raises  the  right 
hand  high  above  his  head, 
and  in  a  most  respectful 
tone  says  "Nkosi!" 
(Master).  He  then  pro- 
ceeds in  a  monotone  to 
tell  all  the  kraal  and  dis- 
trict news,  from  the  killing 
of  a  leopard  to  the  loss  of 
a  chicken  in  a  beer  pot. 
You  must  then  tell  him 
your  past  movements  and 
future  purposes,  all  of 
which  will  be  duly  reported 
to  the  chief.  The  chicken- 
flavoured  beer  will  then  be 


served,  the  man  himself  taking  the 
first  swallow  from  your  vessel  to 
show  that  it  is  all  right. 

As  already  remarked,  the  Tongas 
are  industrious.      With  them  it  is  a 
disgrace  for  a  male  of  strength  to 
evade    work.      When  not  away  to 
civilisation,     earning    money     with 
which  to  buy  wives,  pay  the  annual 
wife-tax    ($3.36   per   wife),    or  buy 
presents  for  their  female  relations, 
they    labour  in    their    gardens    and 
help  their  wives  to  provide  food  for 
the  family;    but  the  bulk  of  the  re- 
sponsibility for  the  food  supply,  of 
course,  falls  upon  the  women.  A  bride 
who  turns  out  to  be  a  poor  gardener 
may  be  sent  back  to  her  parents,  and 
her  price  recovered  by  the  husband. 
But  such  a  one  generally  defends  her 
reputation  by  attributing  her  crop  fail- 
ures to  the  witchcraft  of,  perhaps,  one 
of  her  industrious  fellow-wives. 

Barrenness  also  may  be  the  cause 
of  a  divorce  and  the  recovery  of 
the  "  labola  "  cattle  and  money.  As 
the  woman  is  the  chief  agricultural 
labourer,  so  the  hoe  is  the  principal 
implement,  its  only  associate  being  the 
hand  axe,  used  for  land  clearing  and 
chopping  of  faggots. 

Next   to    hoeing,    the    work  of   the 


THE     FAMOUS     "  LALA  "     PALM     TREE     FROM     WHICH     IS 
SECURED   THE    "  PALM    WINE  "    IN    THE    FORM    OF    SAP 


FROM  CANADA   TO  TONGALAND 


women  is  cooking  and  beer-making; 
and  they  are  clever  cooks,  as  well  as 
expert  brewers.  Their  "  dishes  "  are 
numerous.  Most  of  these  are  pre- 
pared from  Indian  corn,  rice,  native 
grains,  sweet  potatoes,  peanuts,  to- 
matoes, pumpkins,  squash,  onions 
and  herbs.  They  frequently  have 
domestic  meat,  wild  game  or  fish. 
Mentioning  fish,  this  tribe  is  supposed 
to  be  the  only  one  in   South  Africa  in 


Next  to  eating  and  drinking  comes 
hemp-smoking,  called  "  ukubema  in- 
sango,"  which  is  the  most  injurious 
vice  practised  by  this  people.  It  in- 
toxicates, exciting  some  smokers,  but 
stupefying  others.  The  dry  leaf  of  the 
hemp  is  placed  in  a  stone  pipe  bowl 
and  lighted  like  tobacco.  This  bowl 
is  attached,  by  means  of  a  hollow 
reed,  to  an  ox  horn  containing  water. 
The   smoker  places  his  mouth  to   the 


■S., 


"^"iff?^ 


TONGALAND  S   ONLY    NATIVE    BLACKSMITH 


which  all  classes  eat  fish.  Among  the 
Zulus  only  the  old  women  and  children 
eat  it  and  the  boa  constrictor.  It  is 
not  unusual  to  be  served  with  three  or 
four  kinds  of  food  at  the  full  meal  of 
the  day,  partaken  of  by  the  light  of 
the  hut  fire  when  darkness  has  fallen. 
All  kinds  of  food,  and  some  drinks, 
are  eaten  from  the  hands,  but  spoons 
are  fast  coming  into  use.  The  sexes 
eat  separately,  the  men,  of  course, 
being  served  first. 


open  end  of  the  horn  and,  by  inhaling, 
draws  down  the  hemp  smoke  into  the 
water  and  the  fumes  into  his  lungs. 
This  causes  him  to  cough  violently 
and  to  grind  his  teeth;  tears  and  saliva 
flow  freely,  and  the  stomach  is  tor- 
tured with  a  burning  sensation.  The 
saliva,  in  frothy  bubbles,  is  emitted 
through  a  hollow  reed,  and  a  game  of 
military  outflanking,  with  the  stream 
of  bubbles,  is  played  by  the  smokers, 
each  smoker  trying  to  blow  out  a  longer 


io6 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


flow  of  bubbles  than  his  adversary. 
This  habit  f^enerates  consumption,  from 
which  many  die.  Though  on  my  arrival 
the  country  was  steeped  in  this  vice,  it 
is  now,  happily,  passing-  away,  while 
Zululand,  Portuguese  Tongaland  and 
Swaziland  are  still  suffering  from  it. 

The  list  of  domestic  animals  is  not 
long.  Horned  cattle  are  the  most 
numerous  and  most  highly  prized. 
The  Tongalands  are  now  the  best 
stocked  districts  in  South  Africa.  They 
breed  a  "scrub"  cattle,  but  keep  them 
in  good  condition.  The  grazing,  too, 
is  good. 

Wife  payment  is  their  principal  use, 
five  head  being  the  price  of  a  wife; 
but  the  market  price  has  now  become 
two  head  of  cattle  (worth  $50  each) 
and  one  hundred  and  fifty  dollars  in 
cash.  This  amounts  to  the  five  head. 
Goats  also  are  extensively  bred,  and 
they,  too,  are  used  for  wife  payment, 
$2.50  being  allowed  for  a  kid  and  $5 
for  a  full-grown  animal.  Every  kraal 
has  its  barnyard  fowl,  and  they  also 
share  in  the  honour  of  wife-payment, 
at  the  rate  of  twenty-four  cents  each. 
The  fowl  are  used  also  for  food  and 
for  sacrifice  to  the  ancestral  spirits. 
There  are  a  few  sheep  raised,  and 
among  them  is  the  strange  '  *  fat-tailed  " 
species.  Horses  cannot  live,  but 
donkeys  do,  and  are,  next  to  the 
native  himself,  the  common  beast  of 
burden. 

The  miserable  Kaffir  dog  abounds 
in  every  kraal,  and  cats,  a  late  intro- 
duction, are  now  becoming  common. 
They  generally  sell  for  forty-eight 
cents,  but  I  bought  my  last  one  in  ex- 
change for  the  head  of  an  old  hoe  that 
was  knocking  about  the  yard.  The 
first  one,  however,  was  given  to  me  as 
a  present,  along  with  a  monkey  which 
used  to  nurse  the  cat  in  its  arms  and 
care  for  it  like  a  mother. 

Polygamy  is  the  common  practice. 
A  man  may  take  to  himself  as  many 
wives  as  he  can  pay  for.  The  average 
number  per  man  is,  perhaps,  about  three 
or  four.  They  have  to  provide  his 
food,  each  a  different  kind,  especially 
for  the  evening  meal,  and  advance  on 
their  knees  as  they  present  it. 


At  my  advent  the  chief  had,  so  he 
said,  forty-six  wives.  To  date  he  has 
taken  about  sixty.  On  paying  him  a 
medical  visit  recently,  and  happening 
to  inspect  his  private  hut — shut  away 
by  itself  in  a  separate  stockade  in  the 
edge  of  the  forest — I  observed  a  piece 
of  fresh  beef  hanging  from  the  roof. 
1  asked  where  he  got  it,  and  he  said  it 
was  from  an  animal  slaughtered  the 
day  before  in  honour  of  his  latest  wife. 
The  wedding  festivities  had  been  con- 
ducted at  some  distant  part  of  the 
country. 

"How  is  it,"  I  asked,  "that  you 
were  not  at  the  wedding?" 

"Oh!"  he  replied,  "I  sent  one  of 
my  body-guard  in  my  stead,  and  he 
brought  back  that  meat  as  my  receipt 
and  seal.'' 

"  How  many  wives  have  you  now, 
Ngwanasi  ?"  I  next  enquired. 

"  I  don't  know,"  he  carelessly  an- 
swered. 

"  Let  us  count  them,  then,"  I  sug- 
gested; and,  taking  out  pencil  and 
paper,  I  jotted  down,  as  he  called  them 
off,  the  numbers  at  his  half-dozen 
kraals  scattered  through  the  country. 
He  could  account  for  only  thirty- 
six,  though  we  counted  them  over 
twice. 

"  How  is  this  ?"  I  asked.  "  When 
I  came  into  your  country  four  years 
ago  you  told  me  you  had  forty-six, 
and  you  have  taken  about  a  dozen 
more  in  the  meantime — where  are 
the  rest?" 

The  only  explanation  he  vouchsafed 
was  that  they  had  run  away  to  the 
Portuguese  territory,  from  which  he 
could  not  recover  them.  But  the 
truth  is,  I  suspect,  he  had  failed  to  pay 
for  them,  and  they  had  simply  re- 
turned to  their  homes.  This  their 
native  law  permits  them  to  do  under 
such  circumstances. 

As  with  us,  their  courtship  may  be 
brief  or  protracted — it  depends  largely 
upon  the  lover's  ability  to  pay  for  his 
fiancee.  But  much  of  this  wife-pur- 
chase business  is  done  on  credit,  and 
results  often  in  endless  "courting"  by 
the  parents ! 

These  girls  generally  marry   whom 


FRO^f  CANADA   TO  TONGALAND 


107 


they  prefer,  not  the  man  of  their 
parents'  choosing.  Neither  do  many 
of  them  marry  too  young.  The  natives 
have  no  marriage  rite  beyond  games, 
dancing  and  feasting,  their  conception 
of  this  rite  being  similar  to  that  of  the 
Bible,  that  the  union  is  the  binding  tie. 

Pure,  unselfish  affection  between 
husband  and  wife  is  more  noticeable 
for  its  absence  than  for  its  presence 
among  natives.  This,  no  doubt,  is 
largely  due  to  their  polygamous  prac- 
tice. On  the  other  hand,  the  love  of 
parents  for  children  and  of  children 
for  parents  is  strong  and  abiding. 

Husbands  and  wives  are  delightfully 
stoical  in  their  conduct  toward  each 
other.  While  travelling  one  evening,  in 
company  with  "Charlie,"  a  big,  hand- 
some policeman  who  was  serving  me 
as  guide,  we  happened  upon  his  kraal 
and  turned  in  for  the  night.  Charlie 
had  been  absent  some  six  months  and 
now  arrived  at  home  unexpectedly. 
As  we  entered  the  kraal  gate  one  of  his 
young  wives  looked  up  from  her  stamp- 
ing block  and — kept  on  stamping  ! 

Kissing  is  not  practised  here,  but 
in  civilisation  one  frequently  sees 
drunken  black  mothers  kissing  their 
naked  babies  all  over.  It  is  very  un- 
usual to  see,  in  public,  the  different 
sexes  so  much  as  place  hands  upon 
each  other,  but  they  have  a  rather  odd 
handshake  which  they  use  freely  and 
heartily.  After  shaking  the  hand  as 
we  do,  they  clasp  thumbs.  In  Zulu- 
land  there  is  a  very  complicated  style 
of  finger  clasping  which  requires  a 
minute  or  more  to  accomplish. 

The  dance  is  a  splendid  institution, 
consisting  practically  of  only  vigorous 
exercises.  The  sexes  divide  up  in  two 
rows  and  face  each  other,  but  never 
come  into  contact.  They  do  not  even 
shake  hands.  Consequently,  the  moral 
influences  are  not  bad,  while  the  phys- 
ical effect  is  most  beneficial.  1  don't 
discourage  dancing  among  the  non- 
Christians. 

Shortly  after  my  arrival  a  company 
of  little  common  boys  and  princes 
gathered  on  a  hillside  and,  all  unin- 
vited, danced  beautifully  for  me — and 
then  begged  sugar! 


Child  training-^compulsion  to  work 
and  to  obey — is  largely  limited  to  the 
poor  little  girls.  They  begin  with 
nursing  babies — carrying  them  on  the 
back  in  a  skin — and  end  with  nursing 
babies;  while,  for  spice  of  life,  they  are 
permitted  to  weed  the  gardens,  fetch 
water  and  faggots,  help  with  the  cook- 
ing, and  keep  up  fires.  These  are 
built  on  the  floor,  in  the  centre  of  the 
hut,  or  outside  in  the  sand  of  the 
windbreak,  called  a  "  kitchen."  The 
rest  of  their  needed  exercise  the 
little  girls  get  by  chasing  locusts, 
birds,  monkeys  and  baboons  from  the 
gardens — beginning  at  daybreak  or 
sunrise  and  ending  at  sunset.  They 
have  nothing  to  do  with  the  hippo- 
potami, however,  as  they  visit  the  gar- 
dens during  the  night;  but  neither  do 
their  fathers  nor  big  brothers  have 
anything  to  do  with  them.  Hippo- 
potami and  ghosts  do  effectual  police 
service  in  keeping  the  native  in  his 
kraal  at  night,  thus  lessening  the 
drinking  bouts  and  witchcraft  dances. 
Snakes  also  wield  a  wholesome  influ- 
ence in  this  respect — for  the  bare  feet 
of  the  native,  though  tough  enough  to 
defy  the  mosquito,  is  not  invulnerable 
to  the  serpent's  fangs. 

The  administration  of  law  and  jus- 
tice is  effected  through,  first,  the  resi- 
dent magistrate,  who  judges  criminal 
offences;  and,  secondly,  the  chief,  who 
tries  the  minor  cases.  The  chief  is 
assisted  in  his  judicial  duties  by  the 
wives  who  are  mistresses  of  his  half- 
dozen  royal  kraals,  which  are  situated 
in  different  districts  and  serve  as  low 
courts.  Any  cases  too  hard  for  the 
royal  wives  and  their  counsellors  are 
referred  to  the  chief. 

After  the  magistracy  was  destroyed 
by  the  Boers,  the  district  thrown  into 
legal  chaos,  and  I  left  the  only  white 
person  in  the  country,  to  save  the  situ- 
ation I  boldly  appropriated  magisterial 
authority,  and  enforced  it  by  means  of 
the  native  police  force  then  under  my 
supervision.  This,  however,  con- 
tinued only  a  brief  period  of  the  thirteen 
months,  during  which  the  official  over- 
sight of  the  country  devolved  upon  me. 
At   the   termination    of  that    time  the 


io8 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


police  department,  being  re-established, 
relieved  me  of  the  several  extra  office.»>. 

It  was  not,  however,  for  the  civil 
service  I  had  come  into  this  isolation, 
but  for  publishing  the  good  tidings  of 
salvation  and  to  care  for  the  bodily  ills 
of  the  European  and  native  inhabitants. 

Gospel  services  on  the  Lord's  day 
were  immediately  started  at  the  Mis- 
sion Station,  and  visiting  and  preach- 
ing among  the  kraals.  A  month  later 
the  day  school  was  opened.  The  na- 
tives did  not  know  the  use  of  a  book. 
I  decided  to  accept  only  twelve  pupils 
and  teach  them  individually,  limiting 
my  instruction  to  reading  and  writ- 
ing in  Zulu.  In  seven  months  there 
were  five  young  men  and  boys  (includ- 
ing one  or  two  princes)  who  could 
read  intelligently  in  the  New  Tes- 
tament. Some  of  these  had  "  turned 
to  the  Lord  "  in  the  meantime,  and,  in 
company  with  others  who  could  not 
read,  they  began  at  this  early  date  to 
be  helpers  in  the  Gospel.  Some  of  them 
were  astonishingly  apt  at  preaching. 
Though  souls  were  not  "  daily  added 
unto  the  church,"  they  were  added 
from  time  to  time,  and  there  is  now  a 
helpful  little  company  of  believers. 
This  is  the  first  Christian  church  in 
British  Tongaland,  the  last  tribe  in 
South- East  Africa  to  be  evangelised. 

Often  have  tears  of  joy  come  into 
my  eyes  as  I  have  seen  in  these  raw 
Africans  the  fruits  of  the  Spirit.  I  do 
not  mean  only  praying  and  preaching 
and  singing,  but  a  general  turning 
from  darkness  to  light;  a  ceasing  to  do 
evil  and  learning  to  do  well;  a  making 
manifest  their  repentance  by  becoming 
better  citizens  and  more  faithful  and 
industrious  servants. 


How  encouraging  and  gratifying  it 
was  to  receive  from  a  gentleman  down 
in  old  Zululand  such  a  commendation 
as  this: 

"Your  two  young  men,  John  and 
Peter,  have  been  with  me  for  some 
time.  Their  civility,  humility  and  in- 
dustry are  in  striking  contrast  to  the 
other  native  servants.  I  hope  you  may 
be  spared  long  to  teach  and  train  many 
more.     These  are  a  credit  to  you." 

And  so  the  transforming  influences 
of  the  Gospel  and  education  continue 
to  manifest  themselves. 

As  soon  as  the  school  pupils  know 
enough  to  help  in  teaching  they  are  re- 
quired to  do  so,  and  the  converts  are 
immediately  enlisted  as  helpers  in  the 
work  of  the  Gospel. 

Perfect  independence  with  the  natives 
must  be  the  policy  pursued.  If  they 
desire  the  advantages  of  the  school 
they  are  required  to  pay  for  both  the 
tuition  and  the  school  supplies.  Do 
they  not  wish  my  services  it  leaves  me 
all  the  more  time  for  other  work.  It 
might  be  said  that  "  nothing  for  noth- 
ing," excepting  the  Gospel,  is  the  un- 
written motto.  Neither  are  induce- 
ments of  food  and  clothing  held  out  to 
them.  They  are  taught,  on  the  con- 
trary, to  help  the  missionary  and  their 
people,  both  heathen  and  Christian. 
Each  disciple,  man,  woman  and  youth, 
cultivates  a  * '  Lord's  garden,"  the  whole 
product  of  which  is  brought  in  harvest 
time  to  the  Lord's  house  as  a  free-will 
offering.  The  receipts  from  these  offer- 
ings, which  are  bought  by  the  mission- 
ary, are  put  in  a  special  fund  for  the 
support  of  teachers  and  evangelists 
who  shall  go  out  to  other  parts  of  the 
country. 


A    LARGE    KRAAL 
IN    TONGALAND 


OK! 


C 

z 
z 

«< 

o 
> 
>< 

o 

z 

H 

X 

w 

o 
o 
z 

o 

m 

CO 

o 
z 


POETRY 

BY     W.     WILFRID     CAMPBELL 


'PARTH'S  dream  of  poetry  will  never  die. 

It  Hng-ers  while  we  linger,  base  or  true — 
'      A  part  of  all  this  being.      Life  may  change, 
Old  customs  wither,  creeds  become  as  nought, 
Like  autumn  husks  in  rainwinds;  men  may  kill 
All  memory  of  the  greatness  of  the  past. 
Kingdoms  may  melt,  republics  wane  and  die. 
New  dreams  arise  and  shake  this  jaded  world; 
But  that  rare  spirit  of  song  will  breathe  and  live 
While  beauty,  sorrow,  greatness,  hold  for  men 
A  kinship  with  the  eternal;  until  all 
That  earth  holds  noble  wastes  and  fades  away. 
Wrong  cannot  kill  it.      Man's  material  dream 
May  scorn  its  uses,  worship  baser  hope 
Of  life's  high  purpose,  build  about  the  world 
A  brazen  rampart:  through  it  all  will  come 
The  iron  moan  of  life's  unresting  sea; 
And  through  its  floors,  as  filtered  blooms  of  dawn, 
Those  flowers  of  dream  will  spring,  eternal,  sweet, 
Speaking  for  God  and  man;  the  infinite  mystery 
Will  ever  fold  life  round;  the  mighty  heart 
Of  earth's  humanity  ceaseless  throb  and  beat 
As  round  this  globe  the  vasty  deeps  of  sky, 
And  round  earth's  shores  the  wide,  encompassing  sea. 

Outside  this  rind  of  hardened  human  strife 
There  lies  this  mantle  of  mighty  majesty. 
Thought's  cunning  cannot  probe  its  science  plumb. 
Earth's  schools  of  wisdom  in  their  darkness  spell 


POETRY  III 

The  common  runes  of  knowledge;  but  there  lies 

A  gfreatness,  vast,  behind  this  taper  gleam 

That  stands  for  somewhat  lore  hath  never  weighed 

In  all  its  ponderings  of  thought-pulsing  brain. 

Shakespeare,  the  mighty,  touched  it  as  he  passed. 

The  Man  in  Vz  did  feel  it,  shook  the  folds 

Of  some  great  garment's  hem  of  One  who  passed 

The  vasty  gates  of  Orion  at  one  stride. 

All  earth's  high  souls  have  felt  it  in  their  time, 

Have  risen  to  this  mighty  deep  in  thought 

Or  worshipped  in  the  blackness  and  the  gleam. 

Dream  not  because  life's  taper  flame  gro\v>  dim, 

Man's  soul  grows  wasted  gazing  on  dull  gold, 

His  spirit  shrunk  with  canker  oi.   life's  ill. 

That  earth's  great  nights  will  darken  their  splendours  down, 

Her  dawns  will  fail  to  rise,  this  mighty  world 

Will  cease  to  roll  its  vast  appointed  way; 

And  beauty  and  love,  and  all  that  man  holds  sweet 

Vox  \oulh  and  age,  the  effort  glad,  the  joy. 

The  memory  of  old  greatness  gone  before. 

Not  hold  their  mastic  'neath  the  almightv  will. 

Yea,  'tis  eternal  as  the  wave,  the  sky, 
Changing  forever,  never  wholly  passing, 
A  part  of  all  this  dream  that  will  not  die. 
It  lives  forever.      ^'e;lrs  may  t.tde  asui  pass, 
\'outh's  dream  decline  to  age  and  death's  decay, 
Ills  and  sharp  griefs,  despairs  and  agonies  come: 
While  earth  remains  her  spirit  will  not  fail. 
That  greatness  back  of  all  will  still  console, 
Man's  life  will  still  be  sweet,  its  purpose  glad, 
The  morn  will  still  be  morning,  and  the  night 
Star  splendours  arched  above  the  eternal  peace. 
The  eternal  yearning  and  the  eternal  dream. 


112 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


PROFESSOR    GOLDWIN    SMITH 


PROFESSOR  GOLDWIN  SMITH 


By  G.  MERCER  ADAM 


O  Professor  Goldwin  Smith, 
I  need  hardly  remind  the 
reader,  Canada  is  indebted, 
among  other  generous  acts 
and  undertakings  of  a 
worthy  citizen,  for  giving  to  its  liter- 
ary activities  a  great  impulse  in  the  in- 
ception and  editorial  supervision  of  The 
Canadian  Monthly,  with  which  my  own 
name  was  modestly  associated,  first  as 
the  head  of  its  firm  of  publishers,  and, 
later  on,  and  for  many  years,  as  its 
editor.  The  coming  to  Canada  of  this 
ripe  Oxford  scholar  gave  to  the  national 
literature  such  aid  as  it  has  received 
from  no  other  pen,  and  that  not  only 
through  the  channel  of  The  Canadian 
Monthly  *  but  through  other  vehicles, 
native  and  foreign,  and  especially 
through  the  home  ones  of  The  Week, 
The  Bystander,  and  The  Nation.  In 
this  varied  series  of  periodicals  the 
Professor's  learned  writings  have  been 
most  helpful  to  the  cause  of  letters  in 
Canada;  while  they  have  been  invalu- 
able for  the  rich  thought  and  inde- 
pendent views  expressed  by  their 
writer,  as  well  as  for  the  philosophic 
treatment  of  great  national  questions, 
political,  industrial,  educational,  relig- 
ious and  social,  that  have  come  up 
from  time  to  time  for  consideration  and 
illuminating  comment. 

Before  his  day  Canada,  it  will 
readily  be  granted,  had  no  magazine 
or  periodical,  if  we  may  except  the 
case  of  the  Province  of  Quebec,  either 
of  so  high  a  character  or  possessing 
such  vigour  and  vitality  as  those  we 
have  named.  Attempts,  it  is  true,  had 
been  made  to  approach  their  excel- 
lence, in  such  ventures  as  the  one  the 
present  writer  was  instrumental  in 
founding  with  Prof.  H.  Youle  Hind,  of 
Trinity  College,  as  editor,   in    1863 — 

*  This  ran  from  January  1872  to  June 
1878  and  was  then  chang^ed  to  Rose-Belfords 
Monthly.,  which  lasted  about  four  years.  No 
successor  was  found  to  take  up  the  work  until 
the  founding^  of  Thb  Canadian  Magazine  in 
1892. 


The  British  American  Magazine — and 
The  Quarterly,  of  St.  John,  New 
Brunswick,  founded  and  for  some 
years  edited  by  that  versatile  journal- 
ist and  able  writer,  Dr.  George 
Stewart,  now  of  Quebec.  The  truth 
is,  that  before  the  advent  of  Mr.  Gold- 
win  Smith,  magazine  ventures,  and  one 
might  even  say  all  publishing  enter- 
prises of  a  periodical  character  outside 
the  party  newspapers,  had  fared  badly 
and  were  precarious  and  short-lived 
undertakings.  This  arose,  in  part, 
from  the  want  of  means  to  sus- 
tain them  until  they  could  become 
widely  known  and  gain  adequate  sup- 
port from  their  reading  constituencies, 
and  also  from  the  lack  of  a  purse  deep 
enough  to  remunerate  their  writers. 
In  part,  the  reason  of  these  failures, 
however,  may  be  traced  to  the  fact 
that  the  time  had  hardly  come  for  the 
launching  of  ambitious  publishing  en- 
terprises; while  heretofore  we  had  no 
man  to  conduct  them  of  commanding 
ability,  whose  profession  was  that  of 
a  public  writer,  historian  and  littera- 
teur, and  who  had  mental  gifts  and  ma- 
terial resources,  as  well  as  the  energy 
and  enthusiasm  which  were  found  in 
Prof.  Goldwin  Smith.  On  his  coming 
hither,  the  period  just  then  was  fortu- 
nately favourable  to  the  blossoming  out 
of  literature  in  Canada,  as  its  trade 
and  commerce,  stimulated  by  the  re- 
cent American  Civil  War,  were  good; 
while,  politically,  a  new  era  had 
dawned  with  Confederation  and  the 
acquisition  of  our  Northwest  domain, 
together  with  the  organisation  of  the 
administrative  machinery  of  the  entire 
country  at  the  Dominion  capital. 

At  this  period  in  Canada  how  im- 
portant was  the  coming  to  it  of  one  of 
the  great  English  writers  and  thinkers 
of  the  era  will  be  readily  admitted  by 
all  who  are  familiar  not  only  with 
what  Dr.  Goldwin  Smith  has  done  for 
its  literature  in  the  past  thirty  odd 
years,  but  with  the  influence  he  has  ex- 


114 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


ercised  in  raising  the  character  and 
tone  of  public  discussion.  By  his 
salutary  criticisms  and  judicial  com- 
ments he  discredited,  if  not  checked, 
the  declension  of  morals  in  public  life. 
This,  even  the  liegemen  of  Party  in  the 
country  have  been  heard  to  acknowl- 
edge; while  they  have  paid  tribute  to 
the  strength  and  force  of  the  critic's 
sound  political  reasonings,  and  given 
the  writer  credit  for  his  disinterested- 
ness, dispassionateness,  and  independ- 
ence of  thought.  In  these  respects 
the  power  and  influence  of  Prof.  Gold- 
win  Smith's  work  in  Canada  have  been 
undeniable;  and  all  the  more  so  since 
his  writings  have  been  at  the  same 
time  richly  suggestive  in  matter,  in- 
spiring in  their  character,  and  most 
instructive  in  their  wealth  of  erudition. 
Added  to  this,  and  to  the  resources  of 
a  scholar  behind  his  work,  have  been 
the  learned  writer's  incomparable  gift 
of  expression,  his  ready  faculty  of  tak- 
ing a  statesman's  broad,  historic  view 
of  things,  with  a  keen  and  large  grasp 
of  public  affairs,  and  a  phenomenal 
power  of  instantly  mastering  and 
powerfully  illuminating  any  subject  he 
dealt  with. 

Another  notable  quality  in  the  dis- 
tinguished writer,  which,  with  his  dis- 
passionateness and  moderation,  has 
contributed  greatly  to  the  influence 
and  impressiveness  of  his  work  is  the 
calm,  though  earnest,  literary  utter- 
ance of  his  thought,  so  admirably 
suited  to  the  purposes  of  philosophical 
disquisition,  political  reasoning,  and 
critical  comment.  In  all  his  work  as 
a  journalist  and  critic,  while  there  is 
ever  manifest  a  masculine  strength  of 
intellect,  there  is  no  undue  vehemence 
or  fierce  invective;  while  the  brilliance 
of  his  literary  style  is  apparently 
without  effort  or  attempt  at  rhetorical 
display.  Even  in  his  most  trenchant 
and  righteously  indignant  mood,  when 
discanting  on  political  turpitude  or  cen- 
suring social  immorality,  there  is 
usually  in  evidence  a  quiet  restraint, 
and  nothing  ostentatiously  intruded  to 
create  sensation  or  detract  from  a  high 
moral  effect. 

This    eminent   scholar    and   typical 


English  gentleman  became  a  resident 
of  Toronto  in  187 1,  having  a  year  or 
two  before  connected  himself  with 
Cornell  University  at  Ithaca,  N.Y. 
At  Cornell  he  was  solicited  to  take  the 
chair  (accepted,  however,  without 
emolument)  of  English  and  Constitu- 
tional History,  somewhat  akin  to  the 
post  he  had  held  at  his  Oxford  Alma 
Mater — the  Regius  Professorship  of 
Modern  History — a  post  later  on  held 
in  succession  by  such  scholars  as 
Stubbs,  Freeman  and  Froude.  In  the 
Ontario  capital,  the  Professor,  some 
years  later,  married,  and  took  up  his 
residence  in  the  old  Colonial  manor- 
house  of  "  The  Grange."  Here  he  has 
since  occupied  himself  in  a  life  of  lit- 
erary toil,  relieved  by  occasional  visits 
abroad,  andbrightenedathome  byagen- 
iai  hospitality  and  a  kindly  intercourse 
with  prominent  citizens  and  friends. 

It  was  in  1872  that  he  began  to  in- 
terest himself  in  our  nascent  literature 
and  devote  his  pen  to  the  independent 
and  instructive  treatment  of  political 
and  general  topics  of  national  import. 
In  doing  this  great  service  to  the  young 
nation,  there  have  been  some  in  the 
country  who  have  not  seen  eye  to  eye 
with  the  distinguished  Bystander  critic 
in  the  views  he  has  at  times  fearlessly 
propounded;  but  who,  nevertheless, 
have  given  him  credit  for  the  manifest 
disinterestedness  of  his  motives,  and 
paid  tribute  to  the  great  literary 
charm,  as  well  as  the  vigorous 
thought,  incisive  brilliance  and  mar- 
vellous lucidity  of  his  writings.  When 
confronted  myself  with  these  occa- 
sional adverse  utterances,  and  when 
called  upon  to  reply  to  correspondents 
of  my  own  who  have  at  times  ex- 
pressed a  disrelish  of  the  Professor's 
"contumacy"  in  this  respect,  and 
especially  of  his  ultra-democracy  and 
anti-imperialist  ideas,  I  have  found 
satisfaction  in  pointing  to  a  paragraph 
in  a  biographical  sketch  of  Mr.  Gold- 
win  Smith,  in  Dudley  Warner's  "Li- 
brary of  the  World's  Best  Literature," 
where  the  writer  thoughtfully  treats  of 
the  intellectual  characteristics  and  cos- 
mopolitanism of  his  subject  in  the  fol- 
lowing words: 


PROFESSOR  GOLD  WIN  SMITH 


«»5 


"  The  liberal  movement  in  the  politics  and 
religious  thought  of  the  present  day  is  ade- 
quately represented  by  the  intellectual  career 
of  Goldwin  Smith.  Throughout  his  long  life 
he  has  been  in  the  van  of  what  he  considers 
the  progressive  forces  of  the  time.  Miscon- 
ception of  progress,  as  primarily  a  moral  pro- 
cess, pervades  the  entire  body  of  his  writings, 
whether  he  is  dealing  with  the  Canadian 
Question,  with  the  question  of  Home  Rule, 
with  the  condition  of  the  Colonies,  or  with 
the  temper  of  the  Establishment.  So  con- 
vinced is  he  that  the  workings  of  the  moral 
order  exceed  in  strength  all  other  forms  of 
power  that  he  measures  the  importance  and 
duration  of  various  social  and  political  insti- 
tutions by  the  degree  of  their  conformance  to 
this  order.  In  consequence,  he  sees  disinte- 
gration where  others  see  permanence  and  de- 
generation where  others  look  for  growth.  The 
charge  of  being  a  negative  and  destructive 
spirit  has  been  frequently  brought  against 
him;  he  claims,  however,  by  the  tacit  testi- 
mony of  his  books  on  politics  and  history,  the 
privilege  of  a  prophet  who  can  foresee  refor- 
mation only  through  the  inler\ening  spaces 
of  disorder  and  decay  .  .  .  It  is  this  dis- 
passionate spirit  of  world-citizenskip,  this  abil- 
ity to  '  look  before  and  after,'  which  has  led 
Goldwin  Smith  to  attach  himself  permanently 
to  no  party,  to  hold  fast  by  no  creed,  political 
or  religious.  His  manner  of  life  has  fostered 
this  cosmopolitanism  of  thought  and  feeling." 

Despite  this  occasional  restiveness, 
on  the  part  of  some  readers  of  the 
great  publicist's  writings,  which  is 
itself  a  tribute  to  the  independence  as 
well  as  the  importance  of  Sir.  Goldwin 
Smith's  utterances,  unique  as  they  are 
in  interest,  and  notable  for  their 
breadth,  their  writer's  largeness  of 
grasp,  and  keenness  of  critical  in- 
sight, together  with  an  incomparable 
beauty  of  literary  style,  his  work  has 
always  commanded  attention  and  the 
respect  due  to  genius.  Throughout 
the  country,  now  appreciating  the  fact 
that  it  had  arrived  at  the  estate  of 
manhood,  the  critiques  and  disquisi- 
tions of  Mr.  Goldwin  Smith's  profound 
intellect,  and  his  strenuous  efforts  on 
behalf  of  independent  thought  and 
speech  quickly  bore  fruit,  while  sen- 
sibly ameliorating  the  acerbities  of 
political  debate,  repressing  journalistic 
intolerance,  and  extending  the  area  of 
culture  and  of  sympathy  with  the  in- 
tellectual life.  This  was  particularly 
manifest  after  the  launching,  in  Jan- 
uary, 1872,  of  The  Canadian  Monthly, 
which,    when    its    aims    and    qualities 


became  known  as  a  periodical,  was 
hailed  with  expressions  of  hearty  ap- 
proval and  satisfaction.  With  its 
appearance  and.  promise  of  perma- 
nence, the  reproach  was  taken  from 
Canada  that  it  had  not  hitherto  suc- 
ceeded in  establishing  anything  ambi- 
tious in  the  way  of  a  national  maga- 
zine, in  keeping  with  the  educational 
progress  and  the  political,  material, 
and  social  advancement  in  recent  years 
of  the  country.  In  literary  merit,  as 
well  as  in  the  freshness  and  interest  of 
its  reading  matter,  which  dealt  largely 
with  topics  of  moment  to  a  wide  class 
of  Canadian  and  other  readers,  the 
Monthly  was  admitted  to  rank  high, 
and  to  be  fully  up  to  the  standard  of 
the  better  class  of  English  and  Amer- 
ican periodicals.  It  therefore  soon 
became  a  valuable  and  thoroughly  in- 
dependent organ  of  public  opinion, 
expressive  of  the  intellectual  as  well 
as  the  national  currents  in  the  contem- 
porary history  of  the  Dominion,  in 
sharp  contrast  to  the  deadening  inter- 
est heretofore  manifest  in  the  things 
that  appertain  to  the  nation's  higher 
life.  The  compliments  paid  to  the 
attractive  mechanical  appearance  of 
the  Monthly  on  the  issue  of  its  first 
number  were  with  equal  heartiness 
extended  to  the  reading  matter.  The 
excellence  of  the  latter,  even  in  a  first 
issue,  was  notable,  dealing,  as  it  did 
in  its  opening  pages,  with  a  topic  of 
sotimelyand  far-reaching  an  interest  as 
"The  Treaty  of  Washington,"  from 
the  able  and  well-informed  pen  of  Mr. 
Charles  Lindsey,  in  which  that  exper- 
ienced writer  pointed  out  with  moder- 
ation, yet  with  full  acquaintance  with 
the  subject,  the  grave  defects  of  the 
Treaty,  passed  in  the  previous  year, 
and  which  provided  for  the  settlement 
before  the  Geneva  Tribunal  of  the 
Alabama  claims.  Fisheries  disputes, 
and  other  differences  between  Great 
Britain  and  the  United  States.  Other 
contributions  of  interest  were  Prof.  H. 
Alleyn  Nicholson's  article  on  "Man's 
Place  in  Nature,"  a  thoughtful  review 
of  Mr.  Darwin's  "  The  Descent  of 
Man";  a  dialogue  on  "Anne  Hatha- 
way,"  Shakespeare's    wife,    by    Prof. 


ii6 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


Daniel  Wilson,  confuting  the  popular 
notion  that  their  married  life  was  un- 
happy; a  paper  on  "The  Cavalry 
Charges  at  Sedan,"  by  Lt. -Col.  G.  T. 
Denison;  one  on  Washington  and 
Jumonville,  particularising  one  of 
"The  Curiosities  of  Canadian  Litera- 
ture," by  W.  J.  Anderson,  LL.D.,  of 
Quebec;  an  "Historical  Night  in  the 
Old  Canadian  Parliament,"  which  saw 
the  deathblow  given  in  1864  to  the 
system  of  government  hitherto  exist- 
ing between  the  Provinces  of  Upper 
and  Lower  Canada,  from  the  pen  of 
S.  J.  Watson,  Librarian  of  the  Ontario 
Assembly;  together  with  reviews,  lit- 
erary notes,  prose  selections  from  con- 
temporary periodicals,  and  poems  by 
various  native  writers,  including  a 
translation  from  Lucretius,  from  the 
scholarly  pen  of  Mr.  Goldwin  Smith, 
and  another,  understood  to  come  from 
that  source,  though  unsigned,  on  the 
"Marching  Out,"  in  Wolfe's  day,  of 
the  last  British  troops  from  Quebec 
after  the  Conquest,  which,  in  the  suc- 
ceeding number  of  the  magazine,  was 
followed  by  the  poem,  "  Marching  In." 

Most  gratifying,  as  we  have  said, 
was  the  reception  given  abroad  as  well 
as  at  home  to  the  new  native  period- 
ical, the  coming  of  which  on  the  scene, 
thanks  to  Professor  Goldwin  Smith's 
friendly  and  interested  assistance,  gave 
prestige  to  Canadian  letters.  Later 
on  that  gentleman  began  his  notable 
monthly  comments  on  "Current 
Events,"  which  were  always  marked 
by  instructive,  and  sometimes  by 
pungent,  criticism.  The  successful 
launching  of  the  magazine  also  gave 
encouragement  to  increased  activities 
in  the  field  of  Canadian  publishing,  as 
was  manifest  in  the  works  brought 
out  at  the  period  by  the  firm  of  Adam, 
Stevenson  &  Co.,  of  which  the  present 
writer  was  the  senior  partner. 

How  varied  and  extensive  was  the 
mass  of  work  serially  appearing  in 
these  native  periodicals  on  questions 
of  living  interest  to  the  Canadian 
people,  from  the  sinewy  intellect  of 
Mr.  Goldwin  Smith,  inspired  by  the 
moral  energy  and  political  force  which 
ever  lay  behind  his  expert  pen,  there 


is  little  need  specially  to  recall.  The 
breadth  of  information  and  accuracy 
of  knowledge  displayed  in  these  con- 
tributions were  itself  an  education  to 
most  readers  of  that  finely  equipped 
writer  and  enabled  them  to  realise 
how  high  a  standing  he  had  taken, 
and  what  exceptional  academic  honours 
he  had  won,  in  his  university  days  at 
Oxford,  and  with  what  admiration 
he  has  since  been  regarded  in  both 
hemispheres  by  men  of  the  highest 
eminence  in  educational  and  literary 
as  well  as  in  political  circles.  Nor 
were  those  slow  to  admit  what  Can- 
ada's political  life  had  gained  by  the 
writings  of  this  critic  of  and  com- 
mentator on  its  public  affairs,  who  re- 
called his  "Current  Events  "  depart- 
ment in  The  Canadian  Monthly  at  such 
crises  as  the  young  nation  passed 
through  when  the  Pacific  Railway 
Scandal  and  the  conduct  of  the  incrim- 
inated Tory  Government  at  Ottawa 
was  in  1872-73  the  engrossing  political 
topic  of  the  hour  ;  or,  on  other  occa- 
sions, when  independent  public  writers, 
and  among  them  especially  Mr. 
Goldwin  Smith,  were  assailed  by  a 
section  of  the  Party  press  that  sought 
to  place  the  latter  out  of  the  pale  of 
literary  courtesy  for  the  freedom  of 
his  opinions  and  the  sturdy  fight  he 
was  making  for  the  maintenance  and 
extension  of  liberty  of  speech  and 
writing  ;  or  again,  when  he  gave  ex- 
pression to  the  aspirations  of  the 
national  life  by  attacking  Partyism 
and  its  pernicious  influence,  as  a 
menace  to  and  subversive  of  Patriotism, 
and  sought  also  to  be  helpful  to  the 
intellectual  as  well  as  the  religious  and 
social  development  of  the  Dominion. 

What  service  Mr.  Goldwin  Smith 
has  further  rendered  in  his  books,  and 
in  the  larger  and  wider  sphere  of 
achievement  in  literature  generally,  we 
may  see  from  the  following  even  im- 
perfect list  of  his  writings,  comprising 
a  work  on  "  The  Empire  "  (a  series  of 
letters  which  appeared  in  the  London 
Daily  News  in  1862-63);  a  group  of 
studies  of  "Three  English  Statesmen" 
(Cromwell,  Pym,  and  Pitt)  ;  Lives 
of  "William    Cowper "    and     "Jane 


PROFESSOR  GOLD  WIN  SMITH 


117 


Austen";  "Irish  History  and  Irish 
Character";  "The  Political  Destiny 
of  Canada  "  ;  "  Canada  and  the  Cana- 
dian Question";  "False  Hopes,  or 
Fallacies  Socialistic  and  Semi-Social- 
istic" ;  "  A  Trip  to  England  "  ;  "The 
Moral  Crusader,  Wm.  Lloyd  Garrison"; 
"  Essays  on  Questions  of  the  Day  "  ; 
"Lectures  and  Essays";  "Guesses 
at  the  Riddle  of  Existence  "  ;  a  com- 
pact "Political  History  of  the  United 
States";  a  history  of  "The  United 
Kingdom" — the  latter  a  masterly  essay 
rather  than  an  ambitious  history, 
charged  to  the  full  with  the  rich  results 
of  a  scholar's  life-work  in  the  way  of 
reading,  historical  research,  and  re- 
flection ;  together  with  a  sympathetic, 
faith-reassuring  work,  written  under 
a  sense  of  the  realities  of  the  Eternal 
and  Invisible,  on  "The  Founder  of 
Christendom,"  and  a  collection  of 
verse  entitled  "  B.iy  Leaves,"  and 
"  Translations  from  the  Latin  Poets." 
All  of  this  work,  immense  as  it  is,  and 
full  of  the  acute  and  richly  suggestive 
thought  of  a  scholar  and  profound 
thinker,  abounds  in  strongly  marked 
and  often  original  views,  expressed 
with  earnest  conviction,  and  with  that 
impressive  force  characteristic  of  all 
Mr.  Goldwin  Smith  writes,  as  well  as 
illuminated  by  an  incomparably  at- 
tractive, brilliant,  and  incisive  literary 
style. 

In  two  of  the  works  above  men- 
tioned that  have  come  from  Dr. 
Goldwin  Smith's  pen,  their  author  has 
given  the  reading  world  masterly 
studies  in  the  historic  field — a  field 
that,  if  we  may  dare  circumscribe  his 
work,  may  be  said  to  be  his  own  legiti- 
mate and,  so  far  as  competitive 
authors  are  concerned,  his  well-nigh 
unapproachable  domain.  We  refer  to 
the  two  brilliant  political  compends, 
"The  United  States,"  from  1492  to 
187 1,  and  "The  United  Kingdom," 
from  the  era  of  the  Norman  Conquest 
to  that  of  the  Reform  Bill  of  1832. 
Most  notable  are  these  works  for  the 
admirable  review  they  give  of  the 
political  development  of  the  English- 
speaking  race  in  Motherland  and 
Colony,    including    the    story  covered 


by  the  latter  as  a  separate  and  inde- 
pendent nation.  Notable  also  are  they 
as  examples  of  the  writer's  acute  and 
compact  thought,  and  his  phenomen- 
ally instructive  way  of  dealing,  on 
broad  luminous  lines,  with  extended 
periods  and  great  formative  movements 
and  crises  in  a  nation's  history.  To 
the  reader  who  has  not  made  acquaint- 
ance with  them,  both  works  will  be 
found  most  stimulating  and  of  surpas- 
sing interest,  as  well  as  captivating  in 
their  literary  attractions.  The  his- 
tory of  the  Motherland  will  to  Cana- 
dians especially  be  of  paramount  in- 
terest, and  those  who  are  familiar  with 
its  author's  monograph,  "A  Trip  to 
England,"  written  with  a  scholar's  de- 
lightful enthusiasmof  attractive  aspects 
of  historical  and  social  England,  will 
know  the  treat  they  may  expect  in 
reading  the  unique,  thought-laden  vol- 
umes which  deal  with  the  history  of 
the  United  Kingdom.  The  latter  work 
— the  summing  up,  as  it  were,  of  the 
chief  annals  in  Church  and  State  of 
the  Mother  Country  during  over  a 
thousand  years  of  the  national  history 
— is  most  interestingly  as  well  as  con- 
cisely told,  with  no  wearying  detail, 
but  on  large  lines,  yet  with  such  full- 
ness of  knowledge,  as  well  as  consum- 
mate literary  skill,  as  stamps  the  work 
of  rare  and  permanent  value.  An  in- 
troductory chapter  treats  of  "  Old 
English  Polity,"  as  we  see  it  in  the 
Saxon  kingdoms  in  England  under 
Alfred  and  his  successors ;  while  a 
closing  one  deals  with  the  United 
Kingdom  expanded  into  a  British  Em- 
pire, embracing  India  and  the  great 
self-governing  colonies  of  the  Crown. 
Within  these  widely-separated  periods 
the  learned  Professor  discourses  of  the 
political  history  of  the  nation  in  some 
thirty  chapters,  characterised  by  much 
originality  of  thought  and  sincerity  of 
purpose,  and  illumined,  as  we  have 
said,  by  great  picturesqueness  of  style. 
Of  paramount  interest,  manifestly,  are 
the  chapters  that  treat  of  the  struggle 
between  the  Crown  and  the  Church  ; 
the  birth  of  Parliament  ;  Government, 
civil  and  religious,  under  the  Tudors, 
with  its  pendant,  the  fight  for  sovereign 


ii8 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


power  between  the  Crown  and  the 
Commons  which  marked  the  era  of  the 
Commonwealth;  the  crisis  that  brought 
doom  to  the  Stuarts  and  led  to  the 
Revolution  of  1688  ;  Parliamentary 
Government  under  thefirst  twoGeorges 
— the  ministries  of  Walpole,  Chatham, 
and  Pitt  ;  the  tragical  disaster  in  Eng- 
lish history,  the  rupture  between  Eng- 
land and  her  American  colonies  ;  the 
national  contest  with  Napoleon  ;  and 
finally  the  era  of  Parliamentary  reform 
and  its  fruits.  On  all  these  topics  Mr. 
Goldwin  Smith  discourses  in  a  most 
illuminating  manner,  worthy  of  his 
high  reputation  as  a  scholar  and 
thinker.  The  literary  progress  of  the 
nation  is  only  occasionally  referred  to, 
as  are  matters  military,  industrial,  and 
social,  the  aim  being  to  linger  nowhere 
nor  to  weary  the  reader  by  taking  up 
matters  of  minor  detail.  The  attention 
is  centred  throughout  on  the  evolution 
of  the  nation  politically,  and  upon  the 
Church's  varying  course  in  relation  to 
the  State.  Now  and  then  are  to  be 
met  with  some  striking  bit  of  por- 
traiture in  king,  priest,  or  cabinet 
minister;  but  nothing  is  ostentatiously 
intruded  for  rhetorical  effect  or  to  mar 
the  quiet  and  impressive  course  of  the 
on  moving  narrative.  The  volumes, 
as  a  whole,  are  a  contribution  of  sur- 
passing interest  in  English  history,  and 
the  author  deserves  unstinted  praise  for 
the  achievement,  which  we  deem  the  fit 
crown  of  a  long  and  strenuous  life. 

Equally  thoughtful  and  impressive 
is  Professor  Smith  when  writing  of 
matters  within  the  domain  of  religious, 
especially  of  speculative,  thought. 
Here  he  has  given  readers  a  number 
of  momentous  volumes  from  his  pen, 
besides  a  wealth  of  articles  in  the 
magazines  treating  of  problems  of  the 
highest  interest  to  human  minds,  some 
of  which  have  become  in  our  day  the 
themes  of  not  a  little  political  debate. 
To  a  mind  so  acute  as  his,  the  Profes- 
sor at  times  is  a  somewhat  disturbing 
force  when  he  touches  those  contro- 
verted topics  which  have  been  so 
much  the  outcrop  of  the  age,  espe- 
cially since  the  era  of  "  Essays  and 
Reviews "    and    the    promulgation    of 


the  doctrine  of  Evolution.  He  is, 
nevertheless,  always  fair  and  dispas- 
sionate, as  well  as  reverent;  and  while 
he  does  not  talk  effete  orthodoxy  to 
an  age  of  reason  and  critical  investiga- 
tion, he  is  "  sound  "  and  assuring 
enough  to  believe  in  a  Power  of  good 
akin  to,  though  immeasurably  higher 
than,  human  goodness,  which  is  mani- 
fested in  the  universe,  and  which  pre- 
dominates over  evil.  He  at  the  same 
time  urges  that  it  is  the  duty  of  all, 
whatever  may  be  beyond  our  ken,  to 
trust,  apart  from  any  superstition,  in 
a  God  and  a  hereafter,  and  to  run  with 
resignation  the  full  career  of  duty,  in 
the  hope  that,  if  we  do,  it  will  be  well 
for  us  in  the  sum  of  things.  Other 
perturbing  aspects  of  the  religious 
problems  of  the  day,  though  his  out- 
look is  keen  and  wide  within  the  limits 
of  the  impenetrable  veil,  he  does  not 
fail  to  mark,  but  rather  to  emphasise, 
the  changes  of  thought  which  latter- 
day  Science  has  brought  about,  though 
he  urges  us  to  trust  the  normal  indica- 
tions of  our  moral  nature  and  our 
bodily  sense,  and  thus  sounds  an 
altruistic  note;  while  pointing  out, 
however,  the  difficulties  of  placing  re- 
liance wholly  upon  the  Scriptures  as 
the  charter  of  man's  faith  and  belief. 
That  there  are  difficulties,  many  and 
perplexing,  in  the  theistic  conception 
of  the  universe  and  our  relations  to  it 
and  its  Author,  we  all  know,  and  must 
admit.  Evolution  has  altered  our 
views  concerning  many  things,  and 
biblical  criticism  has  put  a  new  aspect 
upon  our  interpretations  of  many  parts 
of  Revelation.  But  these  facts  only 
prove  that  the  world  is  still  advancing, 
and  that  the  human  mind  has  not 
reached  its  full  development.  There 
is  hence  little  justification  for  being 
dogmatic,  far  less  braggartly  scepti- 
cal, in  regard  to  things  whereof  we 
are  ignorant.  Better,  surely,  the  hope 
rather  than  the  denial  and  the  doubt, 
and  more  comforting,  as  well  as  more 
seemly,  the  temper  and  spirit  of  con- 
fiding trust.  This,  obviously,  is* the 
attitude  of  Mr.  Goldwin  Smith,  and 
the  spirit  in  which  he  writes  of  religi- 
ous topics. 


A  SONG  OF  CHEER 


119 


Under  how  deep  a  debt  Canada  is, 
and  must  remain,  for  the  g-ood  fortune 
that  brought  the  distinguished  author 
to  the  country  as  a  resident,  with  his 
industrious,  talented  pen  and  fruitful 
work,  and  how  grateful  it  should  be 
for  the  inspiration  he  has  given  to  the 
native  literature,  with  the  presence  and 
example  in  its  midst  of  a  rare  person- 
ality, which  inspires  as  well  as  charms 
all  who  come  within  its  influence,  there 


can  hardly  be  a  dissident  voice  by  way 
of  reply,  or  a  detracting^,  discordant 
note  of  qualification.  That  the  learned 
Professor,  octogenarian  thoug^h  he 
now  is,  may  yet  see  many  years  of 
happy  and  homage-paid  life  in  the 
nation  with  which  he  has  now  been  so 
long  and  honourably  identified,  must 
be  the  ardent  wish  of  every  Canadian 
and  English-speaking  student  of  his 
writings. 


A  SONG  OF  CHEER 

BY    WILLIAM   J.     FISCHER 

"DLEST  is  the  night  and  sweet  the  time  ! 

The  lordly  Yule-tide  moon  appears ; 

And  now  into  mine  longing  ears 
The  joy-bells  chime. 

What  soft,  gray  hopes  of  long  ago 

Those  chimes  recall — what  silent  bliss  ! 
My    heart  now  flowers  in  the  kiss 

Of  winter's  snow. 

The  world  is  kind — the  world  is  old. 

Each  heart  builds  its  own  resting  place 
Out  of  life's  deeds.     Youth's  angel  face 

So  soon  turns  cold. 


But  Christmas  brings,  while   time  swift  flows, 

A  tenderness  for  every  grief; 

The  thorn  lies  covered  by  the  leaf 
Of  Hope's  Ted  rose. 

Fling  wide  the  portals  then,  poor  heart ; 

Let  melodies  of  Peace  awake 

The  sleeping-  dreams  for  love's  sweet  sake, 
While  shadows  part ! 


THE  GOOSANDER 


DONALD"   STORY 


By   W.  ALBERT  HICKMAN 

Note — The  "  Donald  "  of  this  story  is  the  same  imperturbable  old  engineer  of  Mr.  Hick- 
man's  story  of  the  ice-crushers,   "The  Sacrifice  of  the  Shannon." 


PART  II 

OW  the  fateful  twelfth  of 
September  was  only  two 
days  off.  The  time  be- 
tween was  spent  in  put- 
ting on  finishing  touches 
and  in  testing  and  retesting  every- 
thing from  stem  to  stern.  The  after- 
noon before  the  race  the  whole  Gulf 
was  flooded  with  sunshine.  Aleck  and 
the  children  and  Donald  and  his  crew 
lay  on  the  bank  above  the  lobster  fac- 
tory and  looked  out  over  the  Strait 
toward  Charlottetown.  The  Goos- 
ander lay  below  at  the  wharf.  Donald 
had  Aleck's  long  telescope  balanced 
across  a  log,  and  was  sweeping  the 
Island  shore.  Everywhere  there  hung 
lines  of  smoke  along  the  horizon,  and 
they  were  all  converging  on  Charlotte- 
town  Harbour.  Donald's  smile  was 
constant. 

"Joost  's  a  thocht!"  he  murmured, 
"they're  all  comin';  efery  tow-boat 
from  Sydney  t'  Miramichi !  'n'  steam 
yachts  'n'  launches,  too.  Theenk  o'  th' 
wheesky  't  '11  tak'  t*  droon  their  recol- 
lection o'  th'  resoolt!"  Carswell  was 
studying  the  blotches  of  smoke. 

"There's  Long  Rory's  Susan  Bell ^ 
the  one  he  built  for  a  pilot  boat  and 
put  an  engine  in  afterward.  She's 
doin'  about  four  miles  an  hour;  an' 
there's  the  boat  Johnnie  Lawson 
brought  from  the  States.  He  says  she 
can  do  fourteen  knots.  That  one  up 
to  wind'ard  is  the  old  Micmac  that 
Henry  Simpson  runs  to  Cape  Breton. 
She's  listed  to  starboard,  as  usual. 
That  one  right  off  the  Island  Shoal  is 
Colonel  Dan  McPherson's  yacht,  round 
from  Halifax.  That's  all  I  can  make 
out.  There's  lots  of  them,  anyway!" 
This  was  evident,  and  Aleck  came  to 
believe  less  than  ever  in  the  Goosan- 
der's chances.     But  every  addition  to 


the  fleet  seemed  only  to  add  to  Don- 
ald's complacency.  "  Eets  goin'  t'  be 
a  gran'  race!"  he  would  say.  Then  he 
would  sit  in  silence  while  the  rest 
talked. 

"When  are  you  going  to  start?" 
they  finally  asked  him. 

"  Oo,  we'll  joost  wait  'n'  ha'  supper, 
'n'  go  ofer  by  night.  A'm  fery  modest; 
'n'  besides,  a  don't  want  to  make  any 
o'  them  jealous  or  t'  scare  th'm  oot  o' 
th'  race.  Eef  they  saw  th'  Goosander 
they  might'n'  care  t'  stairt. " 

"By  George!  if  they  knew  who  was 
in  her  a  lot  of  them  wouldn't!"  said 
Billy  Dunn,  warmly.  The  old  man 
winced  under  the  compliment. 

"A'll  trry  not  t'  frighten  them!" 
he  said  suavely. 

After  supper  they  built  a  fire  under 
the  Goosander^s  new  boiler.  As  a  final 
test,  Donald  was  going  to  take  her 
across  with  the  paddles  alone.  By  the 
time  they  were  ready  the  sun  had  been 
down  an  hour  and  the  stars  were  out. 
Across  the  Strait  they  could  see  the 
light  on  Wood  Islands  and  catch  the 
blaze  of  Point  Prim  Light  away  up  to 
the  northward.  Maisie  and  Dick  were 
on  the  wharf  to  watch  the  departure, 
and  were  trembling  with  excitement. 

"  Y'  mus'  watch  us  wi'  th'  glass, 
Maisie,"  said  Donald,  as  he  climbed 
aboard  with  a  suit  of  oilskins  under 
one  arm  and  the  spaniel  under  the 
other,  "  'n'  when  we  go  ahead  y'  mus' 
cheer,  d'  y'see?  A'  can't  hear  y',  but 
a'll  know  y're  cheerin',  'n'  that'll  make 
us  beat  them."  The  children  promised 
to  do  their  best.  The  old  man  opened 
the  throttle,  the  long-cylindered  engine 
churned  the  water  into  froth,  and  the 
Goosander  glided  off  under  the  stars, 
out  toward  the  Gull  Rock  Light,  leav- 
ing a  trail  of  glittering  phosphor- 
escence behind.    The  two  small  figures 


THE  GOOSANDER 


121 


on  the  wharf  watched  the  dark  cloud 
of  smoke  go  out  through  the  Wide 
Entrance.  Then  they  ran  up  to  give 
their  father  a  circumstantial  account  of 
the  departure. 

By  midnight,  in  the  bungalow  on 
Hillsborough  Bay,  Mr.  Montgomery 
Paul  was  sleeping  peacefully,  entirely 
oblivious  of  anything  that  the  calm 
waters  of  Northumberland  Strait  might 
be  bearing  on  toward  his  discomfiture. 
In  the  morning  his  friend,  Mr.  Hunter, 
strolled  over  for  breakfast. 

'*  Well,  what  do  you  think  of  them?" 
said  Mr.  Paul.  "  I  told  you  they'd 
come ! " 

"  Never  saw  such  a  collection  of 
craft  in  my  life!" 

"  It's  going  to  be  tremendous!" 

"It  is!" 

"  Look  at  the  smoke  of  them  up 
there  now!" 

"Yes,  looks  like  a  picture  of  the 
battle  of  the  Nile.  That's  the  advan- 
tage of  having  a  boat  fired  with  oil." 

"Humph!"  said  Mr.  Paul,  "stink- 
ing nuisance." 

"  Stink  be  hanged!"  said  Mr.  Hunter. 
"  But  say,  your  engineer  told  me  that 
one  with  paddles  came  in  about  two 
o'clock  this  morning." 

"Paddles  .3" 

"  Yes,  paddles;  and  he  says  she  had 
two  funnels."      Mr.  Paul  laughed. 

"  He  must  have  been  taking  some- 
thing to  brace  him  up.  Maybe  a  tor- 
pedo boat  came  in,  and  made  such  a 
row  he  thought  it  was  paddles.  Well, 
we'd  better  get  some  breakfast." 

The  race  was  to  start  at  ten  o'clock, 
and  from  dawn  boats  of  all  kinds  had 
been  up  at  the  wharves  getting  water 
and  preparing  generally.  The  day 
was  clear,  and  a  stiff  north-west  breeze 
was  making  the  harbour  choppy. 
Spectators  were  everywhere;  on  the 
wharves  and  in  row-boats  and  sail- 
boats. Every  lobster  fisherman  in  the 
vicinity  had  sailed  in  with  his  family, 
and  the  sails,  from  white  to  tan  brown, 
were  all  over  the  harbour.  But  the 
steamers  were  the  overpowering  fea- 
ture. There  was  the  Caribou  boat  and 
six  others  loaded  with  spectators  lying 
at  the  wharves.     There  were  smaller 


steamers  of  all  shapes  and  descrip- 
tions rushing  about  and  dodging  each 
other,  and  the  chorus  of  shrieks  from 
their  whistles  was  indescribable.  It 
was  as  if  a  steam  caliope,  such  as 
circuses  carry,  was  being  abused.  A 
deep-sheared  tug  would  roll  by,  low 
set,  and  with  her  circulating  pump 
hurling  a  jerking  stream  of  water  eight 
feet  from  her  side.  Then  would  fol- 
low a  long,  smooth-polished  craft 
with  a  striped  awning  and  an  engine 
that  sounded  like  a  sewing  machine. 
Then  "  Bang — bang — snap  bang!  puff 
— puff — bang!"  and  a  gasoline  yacht 
would  pass  and  recall  a  militia  com- 
pany after  the  order  "Fire  at  will!" 
had  been  given.  She  would  be  followed 
by  a  bluff-bowed  tug,  high  forward  and 
low  in  the  stern,  piling  up  a  great  wall 
of  water  in  front  of  her.  She  had 
spent  most  of  her  life  towing  about  a 
big  dredge,  and  her  owner  said  that  if 
she  could  do  that  he  didn't  see  why 
she  couldn't  keep  up  with  the  best  of 
them.  Down  in  the  opposite  direction 
would  come  a  beautiful  little  schooner- 
bowed  yacht,  white,  and  with  polished 
spars  and  shining  brass,  slipping  along 
with  hardly  a  ripple;  while  out  beyond, 
with  her  skipper  solid  in  his  convic- 
tions as  to  what  she  could  do  in  a  sea- 
way, would  loom  a  two-masted  ocean- 
going tow-boat.  Then  a  top-heavy 
passenger  boat  from  the  Bay  Chaleur 
would  come  down,  letting  herself  out, 
and  loosening  up  just  to  be  sure  that 
nothing  was  wrong;  then  two  more 
launches,  followed  by  another  tug. 
And  so  they  went.  Over  the  rails  of 
the  open  ones,  and  from  doors  amid- 
ships in  the  others,  protruded  heads  of 
men  with  grimy  faces  and  with  hands 
holding  bunches  of  waste  or  oil  cans 
or  spanners,  each  studying  the  be- 
wildering array  of  his  enemies,  and 
each  reasonably  certain  that,  given 
favourable  conditions,  he  "  could  lick 
the  whole  lot  o'  them." 

About  half-past  nine  Mr.  Hunter's 
Mermaid  came  up  the  harbour.  The 
sunlight  was  glinting  on  her  varnished 
sides  and  glaring  red  and  gold  from 
the  rose-lacquered  brass  of  her  funnel 
and  boiler.     A  quarter  of  a  mile  be- 


122 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


hind  her  came  the  Niohe,  hardly  less 
dazzling,  and  looking  very  formidable 
with  her  low  set  hull  and  big  stubby 
funnel.  She  was  at  once  recognised 
as  the  boat  of  the  man  who  was  will- 
ing to  risk  the  thousand  dollars,  and 
was  greeted  by  all  the  whistles.  Then 
came  a  gun  from  one  of  the  big  pas- 
senger steamers  that  served  as  the 
judge's  boat.  It  was  the  preparatory 
signal.  In  fifteen  minutes  the  race 
would  start.  The  crowd  on  the 
wharves  and  on  the  boats  commenced 
to  shift  uneasily.  The  steamers  circled 
and  began  to  draw  up  into  a  long  un- 
even line  that  stretched  away  across 
the  big  harbour;  ocean  tugs,  harbour 
tugs,  passenger  boats,  yachts  and 
launches,  each  with  its  boilers  fired  up 
to  the  blowing-ofF  point,  and  each  after 
the  thousand  dollars  offered  by  Mr. 
Montgomery  Paul.  Mr.  Paul  himself 
was  excited,  there  was  no  denying 
that.  He  was  trembling  as  he  sat  at 
the  little  brass  wheel  and  swung  the 
Niobe  in  alongside  the  Mermaid.  He 
made  a  remark  to  Mr.  Hunter  con- 
cerning the  weather.  Then  his  en- 
gineer spoke  up: 

"Now  will  y'  say  I  was  drunk!"  he 
said.  "Look  there!"  and  he  pointed 
up  the  harbour. 

"Well,  I'm  blowed!"  said  Mr.  Paul. 
Mr  Hunter  gasped. 

"What  in  — ";  then  he  stopped. 
Coming  down  from  far  up  the  harbour 
was  something  that  looked  not  unlike 
a  Tyne  tug.  Above  a  narrow  black 
hull,  crammed  with  machinery,  towered 
two  long,  rusty  funnels  of  unequal 
height,  which  were  pouring  out  vol- 
umes of  black  smoke.  Below  were 
two  broad  paddles  without  boxes — 
paddles  that  were  now  being  swung 
so  viciously  that  the  after  part  of  the 
apparition  was  half  hidden  in  clouds  of 
flying  spray  that  glittered  in  the  morn- 
ing sun.  The  boat's  speed  seemed  to 
be  marvellous,  and  her  ugly  black  bow, 
with  its  copper-red  bottom,  sat  on  a 
cushion  of  seething  foam.  Behind  her 
stretched  a  wide  white  wake.  Other 
eyes  were  turned  in  her  direction,  and, 
as  she  came  closer,  still  others,  until 


nearly  everyone  in  the  fleet  was  watch- 
ing her  approach. 

'*  On  she  came,  with  a  cloud  of — (coal  dust), 
Rig-ht  against  the  wind  that  blew, 

Until  the  eye  could  distingfuish 
The  faces  of  the  crew." 

The  said  crew 

" — stood  calm  and  silent 

And  looked  upon  the  foes, 
And  a  great  shout  of  laughter 

From  all  the  vanguard  rose." 

Mr.  Paul's  engineer  spoke. 

"Look  at  her  machinery!"  he 
gasped,  "she's  full  of  it.  I'll  be 
hanged  if  she  hasn't  got  a  screw,  too! 
And  Lord!  look  at  her  paddles!  That 
beats  anything  I've  ever  seen!"  The 
Susan  Bell  happened  to  be  near,  and 
Long  Rory  stood  up. 

'^ Great  Eastern  ahoy!"  he  yelled, 
and  the  crowd  roared.  Rory  began  to 
see  who  comprised  the  Goosander's 
crew. 

"Hi,  Donald,"  he  shouted,  "can  y' 
lend  us  a  boiler?"  Donald  stood  up 
and  smiled  blandly. 

"A'd  be  pairfectly  weelin'  t'  lend  y' 
th'  two  o'  them  'n'  row  her  ofer  eef  a 
wiz  racin'  th'  Susan  Bell  alone,"  he 
said,  and  the  crowd  laughed  again. 
The  word  went  down  the  line  that  it 
was  Donald  McDonald,  and  those  who 
knew  him  said:  "We  might  have 
known  he'd  be  here."  Henry  Simpson 
said:  "Donald  McDonald — that  set- 
tles some  of  us!"  Donald  came  up 
astern  of  the  Niobe,  and  the  paddles 
stopped. 

"Good  day,  Mr.  Paul,"  he  said. 

"Good  day,"  said  Mr.  Paul,  "that's 
a  great  boat  you've  got  there." 

"Aye,"  was  the  solemn  answer,  "a 
like  th'  design  mysel'." 

"By  George!"  said  Mr.  Paul  to  his 
engineer,  "that's  the  old  chap  we 
had  aboard  the  Niobe!"  The  engineer 
grinned  unsympathetically.  The  Susan 
Bell  was  near  and  Mr.  Paul  turned  to 
Rory  and  said  quietly: 

"Who  is  he?" 

"Donald  McDonald,"  said  Rory. 

"And    who's    Donald   McDonald?" 

Rory  laughed. 

"Oh,   he    belongs    to    Caribou;    y'll 


THE  GOOSANDER 


123 


likely  know  something  about  him  be- 
fore night,"  he  said.  Mr.  Paul  turned 
to  the  Goosander  again. 

"Aren't  you  coming  up  into  line?" 
he  shouted. 

"Not  't  present." 

"There's  only  four  minutes  before 
the  starting  gun." 

"A'm  afraid  o'  gettin'  my  paddles 
broken.  A'll  trry  'n'  coom  up  ootside 
wheyre  th're's  plainty  o'  sea  room." 
Rory  chuckled.  "He's  got  blood  in 
his  eye  this  morning,"  he  said  to  him- 
self. 

The  Goosander  hung  back  of  the  line 
and  the  big  boats  ranged  up  behind 
her.  The  Caribou  boat  was  crowded 
with  Caribou  people,  and  they  all 
seemed  to  recognise  Donald  at  once, 
and  yelled  simultaneously.  The  old 
man  sat  in  the  Goosander  s  stern  with 
the  black  spaniel  beside  him  and  his 
€ye  on  his  watch. 

"Carswell,"  he  said,  softly,  "y* 
needn't  open  up  for  a  while.  A'll 
run  her  wi'  th'  paddles."  Now  there 
was  only  a  minute  to  spare.  All  down 
the  line  pop  valves  were  blowing  off, 
while  clouds  of  steam  were  floating  to 
leeward  and  the  boats  were  rocking 
uneasily.  For  a  moment  everyone 
watched  everyone  else.  Then  came 
the  boom  of  the  gun  from  the  judge's 
boat,  followed  by  the  throb  of  many 
engines  and  the  spattering  rifle  Are 
from  three  gasoline  launches;  then  the 
boil  and  rush  and  swirl  of  white  water 
being  hurled  back  by  many  screws, 
and  the  movement  of  the  boats  as  they 
felt  the  thrust  and  started  forward. 
The  light  launches  got  under  way 
quickly  and  darted  ahead,  and  the  line 
swept  on.  Donald  let  them  get  fifty 
yards  away.  He  looked  up  at  the 
Caribou  boat,  which  was  bearing  down 
on  his  stern. 

"Don't  hurry!"  he  said,  "we've  got 
feefty  miles  t' catch  them."  Then  he 
opened  the  throttle  of  the  long-cylin- 
dered  engine.  The  paddles  pounded 
the  sea  into  smoke  and  disappeared  in 
the  spray,  and  the  spray  made  the 
black  spaniel  sneeze  violently.  The 
crowd  on  the  Caribou  boat  howled 
with  enthusiasm,  and  a  howl  of  deri- 


sion came  back  from  the  fleet.  The 
great  race  was  started.  The  boats 
swept  down  Charlottetown  Harbour 
and  out  past  the  light,  leaving  the 
water  white  behind  them.  Already 
they  were  beginning  to  sort  themselves 
out. 

.\  gasoline  launch  had  caught  fire 
and  was  burning  briskly,  while  lobster 
boats  from  every  direction  were  going 
to  the  rescue  of  her  crew.  Her  owner 
was  standing  on  her  counter  and 
swearing,  and  his  language  was  fear- 
ful beyond  description.  A  boat  from 
Antigonish  had  run  aground  on  a 
shoal  on  the  far  side  of  the  harbour, 
and  her  skipper  was  following  the  ex- 
ample of  the  owner  of  the  gasoline 
launch  with  a  fluency  bred  of  a  lifetime 
of  practice.  A  boat  from  Newcastle 
had  run  into  a  boat  from  Chatham, 
and  they  went  on  shoulder  to  shoulder, 
trying  to  shove  each  other  out  of  the 
channel.  Drawing  out  ahead  were 
Col.  Dan  McPherson's  yacht,  the 
ocean  tug,  a  tug  from  Charlottetown, 
one  from  Sydney  and  two  from  Hali- 
fax, with  the  Mermaid  and  the  Ntobe 
on  pretty  even  terms  just  behind  them. 
Astern  straggled  out  a  long  line,  of 
which  the  last  two  were  Long  Rory's 
Susan  Bell  and  the  Goosander.  So 
they  passed  out  into  the  Bay  and  bore 
away  for  the  buoy  off  Point  Prim. 
The  Goosander  crept  up  on  the  Susan 
Bell,  and  Carswell  began  to  give  the 
screw  engine  steam.  Now  they  had 
plenty  of  sea  room,  and  he  opened  her 
wider.  The  boats  felt  the  first  sweep 
of  the  seas  coming  down  from  the 
north-west,  and  rolled  and  wallowed 
ahead,  throwing  clouds  of  spray  from 
their  bows.  A  wave  would  come  up 
and  hit  the  Goosander,  and  her  whirl- 
ing starboard  paddle  would  pulverise 
it  and  heave  it  aloft  in  bucketfuls 
and  drench  Carswell  and  Billy  and 
Donald  and  the  spaniel  impartially. 
In  the  meantime  Mclntyre  was  getting 
wet  over  the  bow,  so  the  crew  of 
the  Goosander  donned  oilskins.  The 
spaniel  wanted  to  see  everything  that 
happened,  and,  bathed  with  salt  water, 
sat  up  and  wagged  his  tail  and 
sneezed.    In  five  minutes  the  Goosander 


124 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


was  alongside  the  white  yacht,  and 
in  two  minutes  more  she  had  passed 
her.  Then  she  crawled  up  between 
two  tugs  and  pulled  ahead  until  she 
left  them  in  her  wake.  Every  time  she 
passed  a  boat  a  cheer  would  come 
from  the  Caribou  enthusiasts  astern. 
Some  few  who  knew  Donald's  record 
well  noticed  that  so  far  neither  of  the 
Goosander's  boilers  had  blown  off. 
*'  Pop  valves  screwed  down,  as  usual, 
I  s'pose,"  said  one,  and  the  others 
nodded. 

The  Goosander  was  extremely  per- 
sistent. She  worked  up  gradually, 
and  passed  other  and  still  other  boats. 
The  leaders  were  doing  magnificently. 
Between  the  big  two-masted  tug  and 
Col.  Dan's  yacht  and  the  Mermaid  ?Lnd 
the  Niobe  there  seemed  but  little  to 
choose.  But  there  was  a  good  deal 
of  a  sea  running,  and  the  big  tug  was 
at  her  best. 

One  of  the  tugs  from  Halifax  was 
holding  on  well  and  having  a  little 
private  race  with  the  boat  from  the 
Bay  Chaleur.  The  other  Halifax  tug 
was  a  few  lengths  behind,  and  the 
Goosander  was  slowly  coming  up  with 
her.  Then  they  hung  side  by  side  for 
a  few  minutes.  Finally  Donald 
motioned  to  Carswell,  and  at  the  same 
time  swung  his  throttle  wide  open. 
The  Goosander  trembled  and  seemed 
to  fairly  leap  the  seas.  She  passed 
the  Halifax  tug  as  though  the  latter 
were  moored,  and  bore  down  on  the 
other  Halifax  boat  and  the  boat  from 
the  Bay  Chaleur.  She  rushed  in  be- 
tween them  with  her  stern  low  and 
her  paddles  whirling  halos  of  foam, 
and  she  left  them  and  bore  down  on 
the  van.  She  passed  within  twenty 
feet  of  the  ocean  tug  and  hauled  across 
her  bow;  then  she  drove  past  the 
Mermaid  and  the  Niobe  and  Col.  Dan's 
yacht  and  pounded  on  ahead.  Her 
boilers  and  funnels  were  white  with 
crusted  salt,  and  every  time  the  spray 
hit  them  would  send  a  great  cloud  of 
steam  off  to  leeward.  With  the  driv- 
ing water  slashing  into  his  face  and 
running  down  his  oilskins,  Mclntyre 
crouched  low  in  the  bow,  Billy  Dunn 
and  Carswell  fired  vigorously,  and  the 


old  man  sat  motionless  in  the  stern^ 
smiling  grimly.  So  the  flotilla  went 
past  Point  Prim  Light,  with  the 
Goosander  always  gaining.  Mr.  Paul 
and  Mr.  Hunter  were  beyond  talking, 
but  their  thoughts  were  stupendous; 
and  Col.  Dan  was  grinding  out 
through  his  teeth  something  about 
"slab-sided  coal  scows,"  and  freely 
damning  a  well-known  builder  of 
marine  engines. 

Now,  anyone  who  knows  Northum- 
berland Strait  knows  that  the  worst 
place  for  an  ugly,  piled-up  sea,  that 
seems  to  come  from  everywhere  at 
once,  is  just  off  Point  Prim.  In  this 
case  the  wind,  though  not  heavy,  was 
brisk,  and  an  occasional  white  comber 
came  down  from  the  direction  of  Cape 
Tormentine.  The  Goosander  was  do- 
ing splendidly.  The  long-cylindered 
engine's  cross-head  was  rushing  up 
and  down  the  guides  at  a  rate  that 
satisfied  Donald — and  that  is  saying 
much — and  one  bearing  that  had 
threatened  to  get  hot  had  been  flooded 
with  oil  and  had  decided  to  cool  down 
again.  The  Goosander  now  led  the 
van  by  a  quarter  of  a  mile.  Altogether, 
things  looked  propitious.  Just  at  this 
stage  a  big  roller  gathered  itself  to- 
gether and  bore  down  on  the  boat's 
starboard  side,  breaking  and  hissing 
as  it  went.  For  a  moment  it  towered, 
and  then  dashed  into  the  starboard 
paddle.  The  Goosander  staggered 
over  to  port,  righted  again  and  went 
on.  Carswell  pointed  to  starboard. 
The  paddle  was  swinging  two  pieces 
of  wood  like  flails.  Donald  signalled 
to  stop  her,  and  shut  his  throttle. 

"V  might  breeng  the  hatchet, 
Meester  Carswell,"  he  said,  slowly, 
" 'n'  joost  tell  Beely 'n'  Jim  t' coom 
aft  'n'  breeng  a  bar  to  hold  th'  wheel.'* 
In  a  few  moments  the  Goosander  was 
drifting  side  to  the  sea  and  rolling 
violently.  Carswell  and  Billy  and 
Mclntyre  jammed  a  bar  into  the 
wheel  and  held  it  steady,  while  Don- 
ald climbed  out  on  it  with  the  hatchet. 
Two  of  the  floats  were  split,  and  one 
of  them  was  started  away  from  the 
frame.  The  old  man  hacked  and 
hammered   and  clung  to  the  wheel  as 


THE  GOOSANDER 


12: 


the  Goosander  rolled  it  half  under 
water.  In  the  meantime  the  Ntobe 
and  the  Mermaid  came  boiling  up 
astern  with  the  big"  tug  and  Col.  Dan's 
yacht  pressing  them  hard. 

"Beely,"  said  Donald,  "  y'  might 
joost  coom  out  here  'n  breeng  a  few 
spikes."  Billy  climbed  out  warily,  and 
together  they  hammered  and  chopped 
while  the  Goosander  rolled  prodigiously 
and  soused  them  up  and  down  in  the 
waters  of  the  Gulf  of  St.  Lawrence. 
They  were  still  hard  at  it  when  the 
Mermaid  came  up,  sometimes  lifting 
her  screw  half  out  of  the  water  and 
sending  the  spray  forty  feet.  The 
Niobe  wasn't  thirty  yards  behind  her, 
and  was  visibly  gaining.  Mr.  Hunter 
looked  round  and  kissed  his  hand  to 
Donald  as  he  drove  past,  and  Donald 
stopped  work  expressly  to  admire  the 
Mermaid. 

"  She  looks  fery  nice,  a'  must  say," 
he  said  appreciatively,  "  'n'  look  't  thut 
boat;  eesn*  she  pretty?"  waving  the 
hatchet  at  the  Niobe.  The  Ntobe  took 
it  as  a  friendly  greeting  and  whistled 
as  she  passed. 

"  For  heaven's  sake,  hurry  up,"  said 
Carswell. 

"  Oo,  th're's  no  hurry,"  was  the 
slow  reply.  Col.  Dan's  yacht  rushed 
past. 

"  Making  some  repairs?"  asked  the 
Colonel  pleasantly. 

"No,"  shouted  Donald,  "we're 
joost  goin'  t'  cut  away  th'  paddles; 
we've  foond  we  don't  need  them." 
The  big  tug  poomp-poomped  past  and 
offered  a  tow,  and  the  rest  of  the  fleet 
began  to  come  up.  Billy  hammered 
in  the  last  spike  and  the  two,  very  wet, 
climbed  hastily  aboard.  A  moment 
later  both  engines  were  going  at  full 
speed  again,  and  the  Goosander  was 
boiling  along  after  the  leaders.  The 
whole  episode  only  lasted  three  or  four 
minutes,  but  it  was  enough  to  give  her 
a  long,  hard  chase.  Donald  and  Cars- 
well  moved  around  with  oil  cans,  Billy 
flitted  from  fire-box  to  fire-box,  and 
Mclntyre  sat  immovable,  with  eyes 
shifting  from  the  compass  to  the  Nova 
Scotia  coast,  and  prayed.  The  com- 
bination was  too  strong  for  fate,  and 


before  long  the  Goosander  was  again 
beside  the  big  tug.  As  she  was 
crossing  her  bow,  which  Mclntyre  did 
with  elaborate  ostentation,  Donald, 
without  looking  up,  hung  a  rope  over 
the  stern.  They  passed  Col.  Dan 
silently  and  came  up  on  Mr.  Hunter, 
who  was  trying  to  light  his  oil  fire, 
which  had  blown  out  for  the  fifth  time. 
Mclntyre  went  close  to  him  and  Don- 
ald threw  aboard  a  lobster  can  with  a 
bunch  of  matches  in  it.  The  Ntobe 
was  still  eighty  yards  ahead,  and  as 
the  water  was  getting  smoother  was 
going  faster  than  ever.  But  at  last 
even  she  had  to  succumb,  and  the 
Goosander  splashed  up  beside  her. 
Donald  talked  pleasantly  to  Mr.  Paul, 
and  told  him  that,  aside  from  the 
Goosander,  the  Niobe  was  the  finest 
boat  of  her  size  he  had  ever  seen. 
Then,  as  the  Goosander drQ\^  ahead,  he 
said  he  was  sorry  to  leave,  but  he 
wanted,  if  he  could,  to  be  in  Caribou 
in  time  to  see  the  finish  of  the  race. 

By  this  time  the  head  of  the  long 
procession  of  boats  was  between  North 
Harbour  and  the  west  end  of  Pictou 
Island.  The  old  man  smiled  as  he 
thought  of  Maisie  and  Dick  and  Aleck 
seated  on  the  high  bank  and  watching 
with  the  long  telescope.  *'Na  doot 
they're  cheerin'  noo,"  he  said  to  him- 
self. He  ^ied  a  pair  of  spare  overalls 
to  the  end  of  the  boat  hook  and  hoisted 
them  up  in  the  stern.  The  black 
spaniel  got  up  to  superintend,  sneezed, 
slipped,  sprawled,  and  silently  went 
overboard.  Donald  jumped  to  the 
paddle  engine. 

"  Stop  her  'n'  back  up,"  he  roared 
to  Carswell.  In  a  few  moments  the 
Goosander  was  stopped  again  and  was 
slowly  backing.  The  black  head  and 
shoulders  would  be  seen  on  the  top  of 
a  sea  and  then  would  disappear  in  the 
trough  again.  Donald  would  say 
"  Coom  on,  old  mon,  y're  doin'  gran'!" 
and  the  tail  would  appear  and  agitate 
the  water  violently.  Finally  the  Niobe 
came  up  and  went  past,  followed  by 
Col.  Dan,  and  later  by  the  big  tug. 
The  white  yacht  with  the  polished 
spars  was  within  fifty  yards  when,  at 
last,  Billy  leaned  far  over,  grabbed  the 


126 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


black  spaniel  by  the  back  of  the  neck 
and  hauled  him  aboard.  He  immedi- 
ately proceeded  to  shake  himself  over 
Donald,  coughed  for  half  a  minute, 
and  went  back  to  his  seat  wagging  his 
tail  and  evidently  much  pleased  with 
the  whole  business. 

Twenty  seconds  later  the  Goosander 
was  boiling  along  again  in  the  wake 
of  the  big  tug.  Carswell's  hand  shook 
as  he  tried  to  twist  his  throttle  open 
beyond  the  thread.  He  looked  ahead 
at  the  tug,  with  Col.  Dan's  yacht 
beyond,  and  the  Niohe  away  beyond 
her.      It  seemed  a  fearful  distance. 

"  Donald,"  he  said  despairingly, 
'*  we'll  never  catch  her.  We  can't  do 
it!" 

"She's  joost  off  th'  Skinner's  Reef 
buoy  ?" 

"Yes." 

The  old  man  took  off  his  oil-soaked 
cap  and  scratched  his  head. 

**  Weel,"  he  said,  "  we  can  only  try. 
A  don't  know  thut  we  can  eemprove 
her  speed  much.  Y'  might  break  up 
thut  half  barrel  o'  peetch  thut's  een  th' 
for'd  locker  'n'  feed  her  w'  thut."  So 
the  pitch  was  sacrificed,  along  with 
the  barrel  and  a  box  that  Mclntyre 
had  been  sitting  on,  and  the  Goosan- 
der's long  funnels  took  to  vomiting 
fire,  much  to  the  awe  of  the  crew  of 
the  big  tug,  which  was  passed  again 
at  McDonald's  Reef.  Col.  Dan's 
yacht  passed  Cole's  Reef  buoy,  and 
the  Goosander  passed  Col.  Dan's  yacht 
at  the  same  time,  and  still  the  Niohe 
was  a  long  way  ahead.  Now  they 
were  heading  straight  into  Caribou 
Harbour,  with  the  finish  line  not  four 
miles  away.  Ahead,  the  end  of  the  light- 
house beach  was  black  with  people.  The 
Niohe  rushed  up  against  the  tide,  and 
as  she  passed  within  twenty  yards  of 
them  they  cheered.  The  cheer  that 
was  on  their  lips  for  the  second  boat 
died  away  when  they  saw  her,  and 
they  were  silent  with  amazement.  The 
speed  of  the  extraordinary  craft  for- 
bade laughter.  They  watched  her  in 
utter  surprise,  the  black  dory  hull,  the 
high,  white,  fire-vomiting  funnels,  the 
mass  of  machinery  and  the  whizzing 
paddles  hurling  water  over  everything. 


"  She  swings  a  wicked  wheel,"  said 
one  of  them.  Others  had  their  eyes 
fixed  on  an  old  man  in  oilskins  who 
sat  smoking  in  the  stern.  They  recog- 
nised him. 

"Go  it,  Donald,"  they  yelled,  "you'll 
catch  him  yet,"  and  cheer  after  cheer 
followed  the  Goosander  up  the  harbour. 
Donald  never  turned  his  head.  "Fallin' 
tide!"  he  murmured,  and  his  practised 
eye  watched  the  distance  shorten 
between  the  Goosander  s  bow  and  the 
white  water  under  the  Niche's  glittering 
stern.  The  pitch  had  been  used  up 
and  the  funnels  no  longer  vomited  fire, 
yet  the  Goosander  seemed  to  be  closing 
the  gap  as  quickly  as  ever.  But  the 
gap  between  the  Niohe  and  the  line 
was  closing  too.  Mclntyre  could 
see  the  wharves  packed  with  a  silent 
crowd  of  people,  and  the  judge's 
boat,  with  a  fluttering  white  flag,  just 
opposite  the  Government  Pier.  Donald 
had  his  watch  out  and  was  timing 
marks  on  the  shore.  Suddenly  there 
was  a  yell  from  Mclntyre. 

"  Look't  th'  Nioher  All  hands 
looked.  The  Niohe's  crew  were  fever- 
ishly heaving  something  over  the  rail. 
"Coal!"  said  Billy;  and  coal  it  was. 
They  were  pitching  it  over  as  fast  as 
they  could  pass  it  up.  Donald  smiled. 
"Thut's  what  a  call  seenfu'  waste!" 
he  said.  Carswell  was  past  replying, 
and  Billy  had  broken  out  into  lan- 
guage. "  Conoondrum,"  said  the  old 
man  to  the  spaniel,  "  he's  callin'  y' 
names  for  fallin'  overboard,  when  y' 
were  only  plannin'  t'  gie  them  a  good 
feenish!"  It  was  no  use;  Donald  was 
impregnable.  The  great  calm,  bred 
only  of  a  crisis,  had  settled  down  on 
his  soul,  and  he  was  supremely  happy. 
Everything  came  to  him  with  exag- 
gerated clearness,  as  to  a  man  after  a 
strong  dose  of  coffee.  His  sense  of 
proportion  was  perfect.  His  relation 
to  the  world  was  normal,  and  the  per- 
spective of  all  things  material  and  im- 
material was  just  and  true.  He  filled 
and  lighted  the  black  pipe  with  ex- 
treme deliberation,  and  slowly  reached 
out  and  dropped  the  match  overboard 
on  the  lee  side.  He  knew  just  how 
the   piston  was  running  in  the  long- 


THE  GOOSANDER 


127 


cylindered  engine,  and  how  the  steam 
cushioned  against  it  at  the  end  of  the 
stroke.  He  could  feel  every  swirl  of 
steam  and  its  expansion  and  falling 
pressure  in  its  complicated  course 
through  the  steeple-compound  ahead. 
He  felt  the  drive  and  flow  of  the  water 
on  the  blades  of  the  propeller,  and  the 
strain  on  the  whirling  paddles.  He 
saw,  and  mentally  noted  in  detail,  the 
fields  and  hardwood-covered  hills  be- 
yond the  head  of  the  harbour,  the  blue 
sky  and  the  sparkling  blue  harbour 
itself,  and  the  town  sloping  up  on  the 
north  side,  with  the  houses  and  the 
church  steeples  and  the  trees,  and  the 
waiting  crowd  on  the  wharves.  He 
felt  just  how  fast  the  Ntobe  was  near- 
ing  the  line,  and  just  how  fast  the 
Goosander  was  nearing  the  Ntobe',  and 
he  felt  the  result  as  a  woman  feels  the 
result  of  her  intuition.  So  he  sat  in 
the  stern  with  a  placidity  that  was 
supernal,  and  enjoyed  to  the  utmost 
not  only  the  world,  but  the  universe. 
What  could  any  steamer  with  a  triple 
expansion  engine  and  190  pounds  of 
steam  do  in  the  face  of  such  poised 
assurance  as  this  ?  Finally  there  was 
but  a  quarter  of  a  mile  to  go.  The 
Ntobe  rushed  for  the  line,  and  the 
Goosander  swung  out  of  her  wake  and 
roared  up  beside  her.  Mr.  Montgom- 
ery Paul  again  heard  the  stuttering 
thunder  of  those  invincible  paddies  in 
■his  ears,  and,  without  looking  round, 
saw  that  black,  ugly  bow  crawl  up  be- 
side him  and  forge  slowly  ahead,  while 
he  was  conscious  of  the  presence  of 
two  long,  uncomely  funnels  vomiting 
black  smoke.  Then  came  a  great 
cloud  of  flying  white  water  and  the 
passingof  a  high,  black  stern  with  the 
boil  of  a  screw  beneath  it;  then  the 
bang  of  a  gun,  the  shriek  of  whistles, 
the  clang  of  bells  and  the  roars  of  a 
cheering  crowd.  The  great  race  was 
over.  The  Goosander  had  won  by  a 
length. 


The  excitement  was  tremendous, 
and  as  the  Goosander  made  for  the 
Market  Wharf  the  crowd  followed 
and  lined  it  from  end  to  end.  Carswell 
and  Billy  Dunn  and  Mclntyre  had  to 
stay  aboard  and  explain  in  detail,  but 
Donald  slipped  ashore  and  disap- 
peared. He  had  a  deep-rooted  objec- 
tion to  demonstrations. 

After  sitting  with  Maisie  and  Dick 
on  the  high  bank  above  the  lobster 
factory  and  watching  the  boats  go 
down  the  Strait,  Aleck's  feelings  had 
got  too  much  for  him,  and  he  had 
driven  into  Caribou  to  see  the  finish, 
taking  his  wife  and  the  children. 
Donald  found  him  for  Mr.  Paul,  who 
presented  the  cheque  in  person,  saying 
that  if  the  Niobe  had  to  be  beaten  he 
was  glad  it  was  by  Donald  McDonald, 
of  whom  he  was  beginning  to  learn 
something.  Mr.  Paul  at  least  had  the 
satisfaction  of  sitting  on  the  wharf  and 
watching  the  Mermaid  tie  up,  while  he 
gave  vent  to  strictures  as  to  the  value 
of  oil-fired  boilers. 

Aleck  was  determined  that  Donald 
should  take  five  hundred  dollars,  but 
Donald  wouldn't  hear  of  it.  Finally 
Aleck  refused  to  take  the  colt  back 
except  on  one  condition,  which  was 
that  he  should  pay  Donald  five  hun- 
dred dollars  for  him.  So  Donald  was 
forced  to  surrender. 

That  evening  down  the  road  to 
North  Harbour  drove  a  very  happy 
family,  and  behind  the  waggon  trotted 
a  bay  colt,  whinnying  because  he 
recognised  the  way  home.  At  the 
same  time,  round  by  sea,  under  the 
stars,  went  the  only  boat  since  the 
days  of  the  Great  Eastern  that  could 
boast  both  screw  and  paddles.  Her 
crew  consisted  of  an  old  man,  who 
was  smiling  at  the  universe  in  general 
— and  smoking — and  a  black  cocker 
spaniel,  who  was  wrapped  in  profound 
slumber. 


THE    END 


nananaaoQnannaannaaonQnoQQnnnDnnanDnaanaDa 

1  THE   FRIEND  g 

S  BY    JAMES    S.    MACDONNELL  g 

n  ° 

aannnnnnnnnDnnnnanaDnnaDnnDnannnnannnnnnnn 


I  MADE  a  friend  who  was  evil  and  good, 
Generous,  selfish,  of  variant  mood, 
A  friend  I  uncertainly  understood, 
But  the  wish  of  his  heart  seemed  true. 

I  watched  my  friend  as  we  closely  moved. 
Marked  what  he  reverenced,  loathed  and  loved; 
The  evil  I  missed,  the  good  I  proved, 
For  the  voice  of  his  word  rang  true. 

Doubt  departed  and  confidence  grew, 

Surely  all  of  my  friend  I  knew, 

Naught  but  a  gentleman  through  and  through — 

I  was  sure  that  his  life  was  true. 

I  breathed  my  trust  in  a  casual  ear — 
"Ah,  well!  sans  doute,"  came  the  killing  sneer, 
"  But  from  what  I  have  seen  and  heard,  I  fear 
He's  a  good  fellow  rather  than  true. 

•'  Innocence  seizes  the  good  as  all, 
But  I  can  tell  you  of  many  a  fall. 
Of  a  slip,  of  a  sin,  of  a  shame  to  appal 
In  the  one  that  you  deem  so  true." 

Black  disappointment  of  pity  and  pain! 
Blight  of  the  proof  that  eats  its  stain 
Through — over  all  the  vision  vain 
Of  my  friend  I  had  held  so  true! 

We  met,  we  twain,  that  weary  day; 
I  charged  him,  and  he  answered  **  aye," 
Repentant,  defiant,  half  drawn  each  way — 
Yet  the  gleam  in  his  eye  yearned  true. 

He  is  still  my  friend  and  will  wear  for  me. 
Recks  never  a  whit  what  I  hear  or  see. 
I  love  him  for  what  his  good  can  be, 
And  that  is  eternally  true. 

Learn  the  why  of  the  Infinite  Friend, 
Mortal  worth — immortal  trend: 
What  ought  to  be  shall  be  in  the  end, 
For  the  Basis  of  things  is  true. 


THE  NOVICE 

ParlJamfni 


'^l 


?!^Glim-MRK£^ 


DRAWINGS   BY    J.    WALTER   WILSON 


HE  diflference  between  visit- 
ing the  House  of  Commons 
as  a  private  citizen  and 
going  there  as  a  member 
of  Parliament  is  too  great 
to  be  easily  realised.  When  you  ap- 
proach St.  Stephens  as  a  private 
citizen,  the  policemen  who  guard  its 
approaches  at  the  gateway  of  the 
members'  yard  eye  you  critically. 
These  policemen  are  the  pick  of  the 
police  force  and  are  very  intelligent. 
They  wave  the  private  citizen  on  from 
the  members'  gate  to  the  general 
entrance  with  an  air  of  favour,  not  to 
say  authority.  At  the  general  entrance 
he  is,  as  one  might  say,  carefully  ad- 
mitted to  the  outer  corridor.  Here, 
turning  to  the  left  hand,  he  can  look 
down  into  the  spacious  Westminster 
Hall,  where  so  many  great  events  in 
English  history  have  occurred.  Statues 
of  kings  and  queens  and  princes  range 
along  the  wall.  Straight  ahead  of 
him  are  corridors,  approached  by  steps 
and  lined  with  statues  of  the  great 
men  of  parliamentary  fame,  such  as 
Burke,  Pitt,  Falkland,  Fox.  Passing 
through  this  long  hall  of  worthies, 
flanked  by  what  are  called  conference- 
rooms,  where  members  may  meet 
deputations  or  their  secretaries,  the 
visitor  comes,  after  the  distance  of  a 
few  hundred  feet,  to  the  outer  lobby. 

Anyone  entering  this  lobby  for  the 
first  time  must  be  greatly  impressed. 
Its  majestic  proportions  and  beautiful, 
lofty  dome  give  it  an  air  of  grandeur. 
From  its  doorways  and  the  gloom  be- 


yond come  slowly  members  of  Parlia- 
ment, thoughtful  and  preoccupied. 
They  are  making  for  the  inner  lobby, 
called  the  members'  lobby,  on  the 
margin  of  the  Chamber  itself,  or  are 
going  out  to  some  of  the  numerous 
committee-rooms  or  refreshment- 
rooms.  All  is  busy  quiet.  But  sud- 
denly you  will  see  these  same  mem- 
bers hurrying  back  in  answer  to  the 
summons  of  bells  sounding  simultan- 
eously throughout  all  the  precincts  of 
the  vast  edifice.  A  division  upon 
some  measure  is  being  called.  These 
legislators  pressing  towards  the 
Chamber  are  as  much  under  discipline 
as  a  schoolboy  in  the  strictest  academy. 
The  members'  master  is  the  "Whip" 
of  his  party,  who  sees  that  he  votes 
properly,  and  will  not  let  him  go  out 
of  the  House  without  a  "pair" — that 
is,  someone  on  the  opposite  side  who 
goes  also,  thus  not  weakening  the 
party. 

It  is  a  beautiful  vista  which  sweeps 
from  the  chair  of  the  Speaker  in  the 
House  of  Commons  to  the  throne  in 
the  House  of  Lords.  The  building 
was  so  constructed  that  the  King, 
looking  down  the  long  lane  of  cham- 
bers, corridors,  and  lobbies,  could  see, 
at  his  duty  in  his  high,  wooden-cano- 
pied chair,  the  First  Commoner  of 
England,  the  Speaker  of  the  House  of 
Commons.  There  is  a  great  nobility 
of  architecture  in  the  scarlet-benched 
Chambers  of  the  Lords;  there  is  an 
ecclesiastical  and  solemn  beauty  in  the 
Chamber  of  the  Commons — especially 


of  a  summer  afternoon  when  the  sun  shines 
through  the  clerestory  windows. 

I  seem  to  have  strayed  from  my  original 
purpose,  but  in  reality  I  have  not  done  so.  I 
wished  the  reader  to  see,  as  it  were  in  his  mind's 
eye,  what  greets  the  gaze  of  any  private  citizen 
who  is  admitted  to  the  members'  gallery  in  the 
House  and  looks  down  on  the  swarming  politi- 
cians, the  majority  with  their  hats  on,  each  play- 
ing his  own  or  his  party's  game.  He  cannot  fail 
to  be  struck  by  the  decorum  of  the  House,  though 
it  seems  sorely  tried  now  and  then  by  some 
violent  or  excitable  critic  of  the  Government. 
He  certainly  does  feel  how  great  is  the  dignity 
which  surrounds  the  black-robed  figure  of  the 
Speaker,  who  sits  in  his  great  chair,  sometimes 
from  three  in  the  afternoon  until  three  in  the 
morning,  with  the  break  of  an  hour  for  a  hasty 
dinner. 

But  familiarity  might  not  strengthen  his  rever- 
ence if  he  chanced  to  see  the  great  men,  leaders 
of  parties  and  popular  figures  in  popular  life, 
engaged  upon  some  humdrum  question  which, 
apparently,  calls  neither  for  eloquence  nor  re- 
sponsibility.     Finding  an  exciting  debate  under 


//ol.  ii7a^/;  1  c,o\'^r^ 


THE   OUTER   LOBBY 


THE  NOVICE  IN  PARLIAMENT 


131 


way  is  all  a 
matter  of  chance 
unless  you  are  shep- 
herded to  the  occasion 
by  an  old  member.  As 
for  respect  for  the  Chamber, 
men  who  have  sat  in  the  re- 
porters' gallery  of  the  House  for 
years,  looking-  down  upon  it  with  a 
familiarity  almost  like  contempt,  have 
told  me  that  when  they  themselves 
were  elected  to  the  Chamber,  they 
realised  many  forms  of  terror  unfelt 
before — that  terror  of  responsibility 
never  absent  from  the  mind  of  a 
member  who  takes  a  real  interest  in 
his  duties,  or  who  is  ambitious  to  rise. 
I  do  not  believe  that  any  man  ever  got 
influence  over  the  House  of  Commons 
who  did  not  feel  that  to  speak  in  that 
ancient  Chamber,  where  the  famous 
men  of  centuries  have  done  service  for 
their  country,  was  one  of  the  hardest 
trials  of  their  lives. 

Let  us  go  back  a  little.  I  have 
written  of  the  way  the  private  citizen 
was  treated  by  the  guardians  of  the 
gates.  Now  suppose  you  are  a  new 
member  of  the  House  of  Commons. 
As  you  come  down  Whitehall  and 
approach  the  palace  of  Westminster, 
you  will  naturally  suppose  that  you 
will  have  to  explain  yourself  to  the 
policemen  on  guard.  You  may  be 
very  proud  of  being  elected,  but  your 
pride  will  not  justify  you  in  assuming 
that  you  will  be  recognised  off-hand  as 
a  member.  Yet,  as  you  come  to  the 
crossing  before  the  gates  of  the  mem- 
bers' entrance,  you  will  find  a  couple 
of  policemen  stopping  all  traffic  for 
you.     You  walk  through  a  lane  made 


by  omnibuses  and  carnages  with  a 
new  and  embarrassing  sense  of  import- 
ance. You  had  forgotten,  perhaps,  or 
did  not  know,  that  a  member  may 
have  all  traffic  stopped  for  him  if  he  is 
on  his  way  to  the  House  of  Commons. 
At  the  gate  where  you  expected  to  be 
challenged,  the  tall  policeman  touches 
his  hat.  It  is  at  once  disconcerting 
and  flattering.  How  does  he  know 
you  are  a  member?  You  go  down 
through  the  yard  to  the  cloisters  and 
meet  other  policemen  who  salute  you. 
How  do  they  know? 

Take  my  own  case — if  I  may  be  so 
personal.  .-Vs  I  came  to  the  cloister  a 
policeman  touched  his  hat:  "  Good 
day,  sir,"  he  said.  "Good  day  to 
you,"  I  answered.  "  Everything  all 
right  at  Gravesend,  Mr.  Parker?" 
Well,  in  the  language  of  the  streets, 
you  might  have  knocked  me  down 
with  a  feather.  He  not  only  knew  my 
name,  but  also  my  constituency!  I 
came  on  into  the  outer  corridor  of  the 
members'  entrance.  Another  police- 
man respectfully  welcomed  me  with  a 
salute  and  my  name.  Inside,  the  super- 
intendent also  knew  me!  And  so  on 
up  the  staircase.  There  really  was 
nothing  mysterious  about  it  all.  These 
picked  policemen  have  excellent  mem- 


132 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


ories.  They  get  hold  of  the  biograph- 
ical picture  books  of  the  House,  and 
study  the  faces  of  all  the  new  mem- 
bers, possibly  for  a  week  or  ten  days 
before  the  House  opens.  They  seldom 
or  never  make  a  mistake.  The  first 
time  I  got  into  a  hansom  to  go  home 
late  at  night,  I  told  the  policeman  my 
address:  he  never  forgot  it — and  I  was 
only  one  of  several"  hundreds. 

That  is  interesting  as  showing  the 
wonderful  system  which  governs  the 
House.  The  system  has  not  been 
made,  it  has  grown.  Everything  con- 
nected with  the  Chamber  is  what  may 
be  called  "expert."  The  House  has 
the  reputation  of  being  the  best  club 
in  the  world,  and  so  I  think  it  is.  It 
is  also,  I  think,  the  best-disciplined 
and  best-organised  administration  in 
the  world.  The  form  is  rigid,  yet 
there  is  plenty  of  freedom;  the  etiquette 
is  severe,  yet,  within  that  etiquette, 
you  may  be  as  simple  and  natural  as 
in  a  private  house. 

I  had  seen  and  heard  debates  in  the 
House  of  Commons  as  a  private  citizen; 
I  had  dined  there;  I  knew  several  of 
the  ministers  and  many  of  the  mem- 
bers personally,  yet  I  never  can  forget 
my  first  entrance  into  the  Chamber  as 
"the  elect  of  the  people."  It  was  at 
the  taking  of  the  oath  of  allegiance 
after  the  last  General  Election,  in  1900. 
The  House  was  to  meet  at  three  o'clock 
— that  is  the  hour  that  the  Speaker  and 
the  Chaplain  enter  the  Chamber  and 
prayers  are  read.  I  was  there  promptly 
to  the  moment.  In  the  inner  lobby  I 
stayed  to  see  the  Speaker  and  the  Chap- 
lain enter  the  Chamber.  It  was  a  state- 
ly proceeding.  You  see  the  Sergeant- 
at-Arms  in  rosetted  coat,  silk  stock- 
ings, knee-breeches  and  sword,  com- 
ing slowly  along  the  corridors  from 
the  Speaker's  room,  the  Speaker  in 
his  silk  stockings,  knee-breeches,  silk 
robe  and  wig,  following  with  the 
Chaplain.  Only  three  people,  but  we 
have  in  them  the  Throne,  the  Church, 
the  State  centered.  Everyone  stands 
still  as  they  pass;  there  is  no  hurrying 
to  and  fro  now.  The  doorkeepers, 
erect  in  their  handsome  liveries,  are 
motionless   and  respectful.      The  trio 


pass  into  the  Chamber.  Three  times 
the  Speaker  and  Chaplain  bow  as  they 
come  up  the  floor,  and  the  members 
present  bow  also.  They  reach  the 
great  table,  the  Mace  is  put  upon  it. 
The  Speaker  and  the  Chaplain  bow  to 
each  other  now  and  stand  at  the  head 
of  the  table.  The  doors  are  shut;  such 
members  as  are  in  the  Chamber  take 
their  places.  The  short  service  of 
psalms  and  prayers  are  read  by  the 
Chaplain.  During  prayers  the  mem- 
bers turn  their  faces  to  the  wall — "and 
all  the  air  a  solemn  stillness  holds." 
Prayers  over,  the  Speaker  proceeds  to 
the  chair,  and  the  Chaplain  slowly 
leaves  the  Chamber. 

Presently  the  doors  are  closed;  there 
comes  a  mysterious  knocking;  the 
Sergeant-at-Arms  looks  out  through  a 
small  grating  and  asks  who  demands 
admittance.  The  reply  comes:  "  A 
message  from  the  King."  The  doors 
are  again  opened,  and  there  comes 
slowly  in  a  grey-headed,  stately  figure 
in  a  splendid  scarlet  uniform.  He 
bows  to  the  Chair,  Half-way  up  the 
Chamber  he  bows  again.  Having 
reached  the  table,  he  bows  once  more. 
It  is  Black  Rod,  He  reads  the  mes- 
sage summoning  the  faithful  Commons 
to  the  House  of  Lords  to  hear  the 
King's  speech  read.  This  done.  Black 
Rod  retires  slowly  from  the  Chamber 
backwards,  bowing  three  times  as  be- 
fore. The  King's  speech  having  been 
read  by  the  Lord  Chancellor  in  the 
House  of  Lords  (I  cannot  describe  that 
interesting  ceremony  here),  the  Speaker 
returns  in  state  with  the  Sergeant-at- 
Arms  and  the  Mace  to  the  House  of 
Commons.  The  taking  of  the  oath  is 
not  a  very  formidable  nor  yet  a  very 
solemn  proceeding,  inasmuch  as  the 
only  order  of  precedence  observed  is 
that  a  private  member  makes  way  for 
a  minister.  The  Clerks  of  the  House 
hand  the  Bible  and  the  oath,  which  is 
printed  upon  a  card,  to  a  half-dozen 
members  at  a  time.  They  all,  stand- 
ing in  a  row,  repeat  the  oath  and  kiss 
the  Book,  Then  they  make  their  way 
to  the  table  of  the  House,  where  they 
sign  their  names  in  full.  After  this  they 
are    escorted    to  the  Speaker's   chair, 


134 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


where  they  are  quietly  announced  and  presented,  and  the  Speaker  shakes  hands 
with  them,  silently  welcoming  them  to  the  Chamber. 

The  mode  of  taking  the  oath  was  extremely  interesting  to  myself,  because, 
although  a  new  member  and  not  at  home  in  the  Chamber,  I  could  not  help 
observing  the  amusing  differences  between  the  new  members  and  the  old.  The 
old  members  were  noticeable  by  their  cheerful  familiarity  with  each  other,  and 
by  the  way  they  lounged,  with  an  air  of  possession,  on  the  green  benches.  The 
new  member  alternately  sat  and  stood,  not  quite  at  ease,  at  one  moment  ready 
to  elbow  his  way  into  the  throng  crowding  around  the  table  to  take  the  oath, 
at  another  hesitating  and  stepping  back  again,  nervously  stroking  his  silk  hat. 
He   greeted  new  members  like   himself  with   a  self-conscious   and    yet   vague 

and  far-away  air.  I  expect  I  was  much  like 
the  others.  At  the  same  time,  I  could  get  a 
good  deal  of  amusement  out  of  my,  and  their, 
inexperience. 

But  there  are  many  trying  moments  in  the 
life  of  the  new  member.  He  has  much  to 
learn,  and  woe  betide  him  if  he  does  not  learn 
quickly!  In  the  House  a  member  may  sit 
with  his  hat  on,  but  he  must  not  stand 
with  his  hat  on.  He  may  not  pass  between 
another  member  addressing  the  House  and 
the  Speaker.  He  may  not,  however,  be  aware 
of  the  rule,  or  he  may  forget  himself.  It  is  a 
bad  moment.  Nobody  has  any  sympathy. 
"  Order!  Order!"  sounds  all  over  the  Cham- 
ber.     Sometimes  he  turns  to  go   back,  but 

this  is  diffi- 
cult,  and 
then  perhaps 
he  turns 
himself  into 
ridicule  by 
crouch  i  n  g 
down  and 
hurrying 
shamefaced- 
ly and  ab- 
jectly to  his 
seat.  I  have 
to  admit  that 
I  once  came 
between  a 
member  ad- 
dressing the 
House  and 
the  Speaker, 
but  so  quick- 
ly, and  I  was 
placed  so 
advantageously,  that  I  think  only  one 
voice  snarled  "Order!  Order!"  But  one 
of  the  oldest  members  growled  at  me  as 
I  passed  him:  "Mustn't  do  that!  Mustn't 
do  that!"     I  didn't  do  that  again.     Mem- 


THE  NOVICE  IX  PARLIAMENT 


135 


bers  are  extremely  tenacious  of  tradition  and  custom.  A  member  is  never 
spoken  to  by  his  name,  but  only  by  his  constituency — that  is  to  say,  he  is 
called  "the  member  for  Northampton,"  or  Aberdeen,  or  whatever  place  it  may 
chance  to  be. 

There  is  an  expression  called  g^etting  your  sea-legs  aboard  a  ship.  Well, 
getting  your  parliamentary  legs  is  a  far  more  difficult  thing,  except  to  the 
very  young  and,  therefore,  self-possessed,  or  to  a  member  highly  charged 
with  his  own  importance.  For  myself,  I  found  my  legs  in  a  way  by  asking 
questions  at  what  is  called  Question  Time. 
That  is  to  say,  I  put  a  couple  of  questions 
on  the  question-paper  addressed  to  a  certain 
Cabinet  Minister.  I  only  had  to  rise  up  in  the 
House  when  the  Speaker  called  my  name,  and 
say:  "Mr.  Speaker,  I  desire  to  ask  the  Colonial 
Secretary"  (or  whoever  it  might  be)  "question 
39."  It  seems  a  very  simple  operation,  but  the 
sound  of  your  own  voice  for  the  first  time  in 
that  Chamber  is  embarrassing  and  distant. 
Not  that  the  operation  is  so  trying  in  itself; 
but  when  you  are  a  new  member,  and  your 
name  is  called,  nearly  every  other  member 
looks  up  from  his  paper  with  critical  curiosity 
to  see  what  you  are  like,  to  hear  your  parlia- 
mentary voice.  It  is,  however,  a  good  way  to 
make  yourself  at  ease,  and  it  is  well  to  remem- 
ber that  people  who  are  much  at  home  before 
all  kinds  of  audiences  outside  the  House  are 
not  always  at  home  there.  Great  lawyers, 
professors,  historians,  admirals,  generals,  men 
who  have  been  familiar  with  public  speaking 
all  their  lives,  have  sat  for  years  in  the  House 
without  opening  their  mouths  more  than  once, 
and  that  was  to  make 
their  maiden  speeches. 
It  must  not  be  forgotten  ^' f 

that  every  man  is  play- 


k    -< 


^/v^  I  ri^ryyr  1  to  -^J^x- ' 


TAKING   THE   OATH 


136 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


ing  his  own  game  in  the  House  of 
Commons,  and  that  if  he  is  on  the 
Government  side  all  the  Opposition  are 
critically  listening — perhaps  scornfully 
listening — while  people  of  his  own  side 
will  not  be  favourable  until  he  has 
shown  ••the  mettle  of  his  pasture." 

And  that  maiden  speech!  Well,  the 
moment  of  marriage  is  nothing  to  it. 
I  had  been  waiting  for  two  days  for  the 
opportunity  to  speak  on 
the  Budget;  but  when  the 
instant  came,  although 
the  House  was  more  than 
half  empty,  I  would  gladly 
have  run  away.  I  have 
been  under  fire  more  than 
once  in  my  life,  but  I 
never  experienced  any- 
thing like  that ;  not  be- 
cause I  had  not  some- 
thing to  say — I  was 
deeply  anxious  to  say 
certain  things,  but  my 
throat  got  dry  and  my 
sight  got  dim,  and  my 
senses  became  confused. 
I  had  good  matter  pre- 
pared, I  think,  so  far  as 
facts  were  concerned, 
although  I  had  not  pre- 
pared a  word  so  far  as 
form  went.  I  am  bound 
to  say  that  the  House 
must  have  listened  to  me 
with  great  patience.  I 
spoke  for  about  twenty- 
five  minutes;  and 
although  some  members 
on  the  opposite  side 
smiled  sarcastically,  and 
although  my  own  side 
seemed  to  encourage  me 
very  little — I  was  too  embarrassed  to 
know — I  managed  for  about  four-fifths 
of  the  distance  to  keep  my  head.  Then 
some  one  on  the  opposite  side  made 
interruptions,  not  wholly  unfriendly, 
and  that  threw  me  off.  The  remaining 
fifth  of  the  speech  was  repetition. 
Next  day  the  newspapers  treated  me 
in  a  friendly  way,  though  I  believe  one 
of  the  most  important  of  the  Opposi- 
tion papers  said  I  was  a  great  disap- 
pointment.     I  do  not  wonder.      I  cer- 


BLACK    ROD 


tainly  was  a  greater  disappointment 
to  myself  than  I  could  possibly  have 
been  to  any  other  human  being.  Agi- 
tated, over-anxious  as  I  was,  my 
wonder  now  is  that  I  did  not  break 
down. 

However,  the  maiden  speech  was 
over.  Then  came  what,  to  me,  was 
one  of  the  most  agreeable  experiences 
of  my  life.  With  a  sense  of  exhaustion 
and  painful  self-criticism 
upon  me,  my  attention 
was  suddenly  arrested  by 
hearing  myself  referred 
to  by  a  speaker  on  the 
opposite  side.  It  was  Mr. 
Bryce,  the  distinguished 
member  for  Aberdeen. 
He  paid  me  some  gener- 
ous compliments  and  said 
some  welcoming  words, 
for  which  I  can  never  be 
sufficiently  grateful.  I 
am  a  Conservative  mem- 
ber, and,  independently 
of  that,  I  have  been 
strongly  opposed  to  some 
/      '^  of  Mr.  Bryce's  views,  par- 

^  ticularly   upon     the    late 

ft  war  in  South  Africa;  and 

in  that  maiden  speech  I 
was  not,  I  regret  to  say, 
very  generous  in  my  re- 
marks about  the  Liberal 
party,  Mr.  Bryce's  friendly 
words  were,  therefore, 
the  more  magnanimous. 
The  most  noticeable 
feature  about  my  second 
speech  was  the  fact  that 
I  was  called  to  order  by 
the  Chairman  of  Com- 
mittees five  times,  and 
that  I  sat  down  on  my  hat.  I  am  glad  to 
say  that  no  one  noticed  the  incident  of 
the  hat — in  any  case  no  comment  was 
made  and  no  one  rallied  me.  Being 
called  to  order  by  the  Chairman  of 
Committees  is  disconcerting.  The 
Chairman  held  that  I  was  not  speaking 
to  the  question — that  is  to  say,  I  was 
dealing  with  matter  which  could  not 
be  considered  on  the  particular  Vote 
then  under  discussion.  At  first  the 
House  was  somewhat  impatient  with 


THE  NOVICE  IX  PARLIAMENT 


»37 


me,  certain  young  members  of  my  own  side  included;  but  I  knew  that  my 
question  had  been  dealt  with  on  this  same  V'ote  before,  and  by  alternately 
apologising  to  the  House  and  committing  the  fault  over  again,  I  was  able 
to  call  up  three  champions  of  procedure  from  the  Irish,  the  Radical,  and  the 
Conservative  side  of  the  House,  who  held  that  I  was  right.  It  was  too  late 
for  me  to  make  an  effective  speech,  but  I  carried  my  point — carried  it  with 
a  rush  beyond  bounds  of  procedure  in  order  to  say  what  I  wished  to  say. 
Before  I  could  easily  be  called  to  order  again  I  sat  down. 

It  must  not  be  thought  that  you  can  speak  at  any  time  in  the  House  of 
Commons  on  any  question.  The  fact  is,  you  may  have  to  wait  six  months 
before  your  particular  subject  comes  up  in  the  course  of  procedure.  Then, 
when  it  is  possible,  you  have  to — as  it  is  called — catch  the  eye  of  the  Speaker. 
Now,  the  Speaker  generally  answers  first,  quite  naturally,  to  the  eye  of  the 
members  of  the  Ministry,  and  after  that  the  most  important  of  the  private 
members.      Waiting  your  turn  or  opportunity,  the 

debate  may,  through  no  fault  of  yours  or  of  the  i 

House,  come  to  an  untimely  end,  and  your  speech 
does  not  occur.  Vour  labour  seems  thrown  away. 
One  of  the  oldest  members  of  the  House,  however, 
told  me  once  that  no  speech  he  had  ever  prepared 
and  not  delivered  was  wasted.  He  always  put  the 
notes  away,  because  every  subject  is  recurrent,  and 
conditions  do  not  so  swiftly  change  that  the  subject 
put  by  will  not  be  suitable  for 
a  future  occasion,  with  proper 
modifications. 

One  of  the  things  that  struck 
me  first  and  most  in  the  House 
was  the  good  fellowship  among 
the  members,    no    matter    how 
strongly  opposed  politically 
have  heard  hard  things  said  in 
the  House  of  Commons,  and  I 
have    been  a  spectator,   on  an 
occasion,   of  vio- 
lence,  but  there   is 
very   little,   if   any, 
speaking    that    is 
personally    offen- 
sive.     Members  on 
both  sides  mix  with 
great   good   nature 
in  the  lobbies  of  the 
refreshment    and 
smoking  and  read- 
ing rooms.      I  have 
heard    one    or   two 
speeches    which 
were    in    execrably 
bad    taste,     some- 
thing to  make  you 
squirm,  but  on  the 
whole    it    certainly 
is    a    Chamber  of 

cwr^rxA    »,o»r,^..c    ^^A  ^T   THE    BAR   OF   THE    HOISE  :    A   CHARGE   OF   REFLECTI.N'G    ON 

gooa  manners  and  

°  HOLSE   OF   PARL  AMENT 


138 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


great  decorum.  It  is  wonderful,  too, 
how  you  grow  to  respect  people  with 
whose  ideas  you  have  no  sympathy. 
There  are  one  or  two  rather  vindictive 
Irishmen,  and  certainly  one  Labour 
member,  whom  I  very  much  disliked 
before  I  went  into  the  House ;  but  the 
Irishmen  are  like  lambs  in  the  lobby, 
and  the  Labour  member  now  lunches 
with  me  at  my  own  table.  This  is  not 
to  say  that  the  views  of  either  of  them 
appeal  to  me.  It  is  to  say  that  I  under- 
stand their  points  of  view. 

The  thing  I  disliked  most  when  I 
entered  the  House  was  being  obliged, 
when  a  division  upon  a  measure  was 
called,  to  make  tracks  into  the  lobby 
and  pass  through  a  turnstile  slowly 
with  three  or  four  hundred  others,  like 
a  lot  of  schoolboys — this  sometimes 
twenty  times  a  day.  It  struck  me  as 
being  a  wicked  waste  of  time.  I  am 
bound  to  say  also  it  seemed  rather 
commonplace  and  stupid.  But  there 
it  was,  and  you  had  to  take  it  or  leave 
it.  I  do  not  feel  the  same  irritation 
now   concerning    that    very    practical 


duty  of  recording  your  vote  for  or 
against  measures  and  the  clauses  of 
measures  which  must  influence  the 
country  either  for  good  or  evil.  As  for 
its  being  a  waste  of  time,  well,  the 
proper  answer  would  be:  "That  is 
what  you  are  there  to  do."  You  are 
one  of  a  number  who,  in  order  to  be 
effective,  work  as  a  mass. 

I  get  many  agreeable  things  out  of 
my  life  in  the  House  of  Commons ;  but 
no  impression  made  upon  me  at  all 
compares  with  the  impression  of  delight 
which  I  have  at  being  in  touch  with  a 
large  body  of  men  most  of  whom  have 
done  things,  most  of  whom  are  repre- 
sentative of  important  interests  in 
the  country — great  merchants,  great 
scientists,  great  lawyers,  notable 
gentlemen  of  notable  families,  all 
devoting  their  lives  to  the  service  of 
their  country.  I  frankly  say  that, 
except  when  very  tired  by  a  long 
sitting,  I  have  never  had  a  dull  hour 
in  the  House  of  Commons,  and  there 
have  been  some  thrilling  moments. 


THE    GUEST 


BY    VIRNA    SHEARD 

/^NE  Cometh  at  Christmas,  who  comes  from  afar, 

^^     From  the  strange,  unknown   places  where  the  dead  year's  are; 

He  hath  followed  a  trail  of  forgotten  ways 

Through  the  violet  mists  of  the  vanished  days. 
And  he  hath  for  his  herald  the  morning  star — 
This  shadowy  guest  who  doth  come  from  afar. 

The  gifts  he  doth  bring  us — Oh!  wondrous  and  rare, 
Are  lost  Christmas  days  from  the  winters  that  were; 

The  echo  of  voices  we  once  used  to  hear; 

The  glimmer  of  faces,  long  hidden,  yet  dear; 
The  scent  of  dead  roses,  the  glint  of  gold  hair; 
These  gifts  he  doth  bring  us,  so  wondrous  and  rare. 

There  is  age  in  his  eyes,  there  is  youth  in  his  smile; 
With  fancies  he  fools  us,  with  dreams  doth  beguile; 

The  gifts  that  he  brings  through  the  wind  and  the  frost 

Are  but  shadows  of  things  we  long  ago  lost. 
Yet,  "Memory,  stay!"  we  cry — "  Stay  for  awhile, 
For  Youth  and  its  gladness  comes  back  with  thy  smile." 


m.    m    m    m    m    ^    m 


^    m 


JOHNNIE    PURPLE'S    CHRISTMAS 

DREAM 


By  H ALU  DA  Y  GIBBS 
DRAWINGS    BY    EMILY     HAND 


O  be  sure,  it  would  be  nice 
to  have  a  turkey  for  dinner 
on  Christmas  Day,"  said 
Mrs.  Purple,  decidedly: 
for,  as  everyone  knows, 
that  is  a  question  easy  to  answer 
decidedly.  "But  we  cannot  always 
have  everything  that  we  like,"  she 
added  brightly.  Indeed,  she  might 
have  said,  **  We  cannot  ever  have  any- 
thing that  we  like,"  for  she  was  one  of 
those  numberless  women  who  find  it 
hard  enough  to  get  food  and  clothing 
of  the  plainest  kind  for  a  large  family 
of  small  children. 

Johnnie  did  all  he  could  to  help  by 
holding  horses  and  sweeping  pave- 
ments, but  he  was  barely  nine  years 
old,  and  small  for  his  years. 

•*  Very  small,"  Mrs.  Purple  often 
said  to  herself  anxiously,  wishing  at 
the  same  time,  poor  woman,  that 
Johnnie  had  something  to  help  him 
grow  big  and  fat  like  other  children. 

"  Well,  I  s'pose  we'll  hev  to  pretend 
we  hev  a  turkey,  that's  all,"  said  he 
with  a  great  big  sigh  which  seemed 
to  come  from  the  toes  of  his  boots,  or 
rather,  indeed,  from  the  place  in  his 
boots  where  the  toes  of  them  ought  to 
be. 

"  Goodness!  child,  dear,  don't  look 
so  old  and  anxious,"  answered  his 
mother,  "  and  run  away  all  of  you  now 
to  your  beds,  and  don't  be  thinking 
about  what  can't  be  helped."  So 
away  to  bed  they  all  did  go,  for  they 
were  good  children  who  usually  did  as 
they  were  bid. 

This  night,  however,  Johnnie  could 
not  help  thinking,  and  thinking,  and 
thinking  ?iho\x\.  the  turkey  they  could  not 
have.  He  forgot  to  say  his  prayers, 
and    when    he    remembered    them    he 


felt  so  dreadfully  wicked  he  got  up 
and  said  them  all  the  more  earnestly 
for  having  been  so  careless.  Then  he 
jumped  back  into  bed,  and  after  a 
while,  somehow,  the  thought  of  the 
turkey  came  to  him  again.  How  fine 
it  would  bel  a  big,  hot,  delicious  tur- 
key !  He  wondered  if  there  might  be 
one  hanging  at  the  door  of  Dwindle's 
grocery  store,  or  Soanes',  or,  perhaps, 
Gage's.  Dwindle's,  now,  was  not  so 
very  far  away,  and  it  was  quite  early 
yet — only  about  eight  o'clock.  The 
stores,  he  knew,  were  all  alight,  for  it 
was  Christmas  week — the  night  before 
Christmas  Kve.  He  felt  sure  he  could 
^o  there  and  back  in  fifteen  minutes, 
and  no  one  the  wiser.  So  up  he  got, 
pulled  on  his  clothes,  and  away  out  of 
the  house  like  lightning.  And  he  ran. 
Mercy  me,  how  that  boy  did  run  ! 
Down  one  street  and  up  another; 
around  one  corner  and  across  another; 
up  a  third  street,  and  down  still 
another  one,  until  he  found  himself 
clutched  by  the  iron  hand  of  a  police- 
man who  thought  he  had  caught  a 
thief  this  time  for  sure. 

**  Hi,  you  young  villain,  what  have 
you  there?"  said  he. 

Then  Johnnie  stopped,  because  he 
had  to,  you  know,  and  his  big  brown 
eyes  were  wide  open  with  indignation 
as  he  answered,  with  a  gasp:  '*  Please, 
sir,  I'm  not  a  vill'n,  an'  I  haven't  any- 
thing I  oughtn't  to  have,  and  I'm  in  a 
hurry  to  get  there  an'  back."  And, 
somehow.  No.  49  knew  by  the  open 
countenance  and  honest  voice  of  the 
little  fellow  that  he  was  telling  the 
truth.  So  he  let  him  ^o,  and  away 
went  Johnnie  faster  than  ever.  He 
soon  drew  up  at  the  door  of  W.  W. 
Dwindle's  grocery  and  provision  store. 


140 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


And  there,  sure  enough,  was  a  turkey 
hanging  at  the  door.  And  how  funny 
it  looked!  It  had  its  feathers  all  on; 
and  as  Johnnie  drew  nearer  to  get  a 
good  look,  he  saw  that  its  head  was 
on,  too,  and  that  its  eyes  were  open 
and  very  bright.  But  the  most  ridic- 
ulous part  of  the  whole  affair  was 
that,  as  Johnnie  looked,  the  turkey 
opened  its  mouth  and — he  could  hardly 
believe  his  eyes;  he  shut  them  tight 
and  opened  them  again  to  make  sure 
he  was  not  mistaken;  but  he  was  not, 
for  the  turkey  opened  its  mouth  and 
smiled.  Now,  who  ever  heard  of  such 
an  absurd  thing  ? 

"You  are  just  such  a  boy  as  I  was 
wishing  to  see.  Yes — bright  eyes, 
red  hair,  little  and  sharp.  What  is 
your  name?" 

Johnnie  looked  all  around — behind 
him  and  at  both  sides;  up  the  street 
and  down  the  street.  But  there  was 
no  one  near  enough  to  have  asked 
the  question  except  the  turkey.  So 
he  answered : 

"Johnnie  Purple." 


So  away  to  bed  they  all 
did  go." 

DRAWN    BY    KMII.Y    HANI) 


"Johnnie  what?''  said  the  bird, 
rudely.  "Johnnie  Purple?  I  should 
have  thought  it  would  be  Johnnie  Red 
— or,  at  least,  Johnnie  Pink — which 
would  be  nearer  the  shade.  However, 
it  doesn't  matter  what  colour  your 
name  is  if  you  will  only  cut  me  down 
out  of  this  and  let  me  away.  I  don't 
like  hanging  here,  especially  when  it  is 
so  very  near  Christmas.  Now,  I'll 
tell  you  what  I'll  do,"  continued  the 
turkey,  "  I'll  give  you  the  first  three 
things  that  you  think  of  that  you  want 
if  you  will  cut  me  down.  Will  you, 
Johnnie  ?    Is  it  a  bargain  ?" 

"  Oh,  I'd  be  afraid,"  answered 
Johnnie;  "they'd  think  I  was  stealing 
you." 

"Ho!  that's  so,  indeed.  I  did  not 
think  of  that.  But,"  said  the  turkey 
— it  was  a  remarkable  turkey  for 
ideas — "  I'll  tell  you.  /will  takeyou. 
You  jump  on  my  back;  I'm  very 
strong,  and  I'll  more  than  run  with 
you.  If  that  will  not  do,  I'll  fly  so 
fast  that  no  one  can  ever  catch  us. 
Eh?  Quick,  now;  decide,  for  here 
comes  a  man  !  " 

Sure  enough,  there  did  come  a  man, 
and  that  man  was  his  mother's  next- 
door  neighbour.  He  would  be  sure  to 
ask  awkward  questions.      So,  without 


JOHNNIE  PURPLES  CHRISTMAS  DREAM 


141 


1>KA»N    BY    EMILY   HAM 


more  ado,  the  boy  jumped  up  and  cut 
down  the  huj^e  bird,  which  fell  with  a 
thump    almost    upon     his    head.      Up 
Johnnie  sprang-  with  one  bound  to  its 
back,  and  off  they  went.      Poor  John- 
nie!    he    was    dreadfully    frightened. 
What   would    his    mother   say  if  she 
knew  ?     Of  course,  he  was  not  steal- 
ing the  turkey.      He  tried  to  persuade 
himself  of   that,  at    all    events.     But 
what  was  happening  ?     Was  it  steal- 
ing him  ?     VVhy,  no,  of  course   not — 
how    silly!     Well,    hadn't    he    cut    it 
down  from  in  front   of  Mr.  Dwindle's 
store,   where    it   had 
been  hanging?    "Oh 
dear!"  cried  the  poor 
boy  frantically,  at  the 
same    time    holaing 
the   turkey    with    all 
his  might  for  fear  of 
tumbling  ofT,  "what 
if  Xo.  49    could  see 
me  now?"    Why,  oh 
why,  had  he  ever  left 
his  bed?     Why  had 
he    listened    to    the 
voice  of  the  turkey? 
There  was  nothing  to 
be  done  now  but  to 
keep   to  the  darkest 
streets  and  by-ways, 
so    he    wouldn't    be 
seen    and    caught 
steal — there  was  that 
awful  word  cropping 
up  again.    It  was  too 
much. 

"Whoa!  Oh, whoa, 
and  let  me  off,  and 
go  back — Oh,  please 
and  go  back  to  where 
I  took  you  from,  you 
horrible  thing  !  "  he 
cried  to  the  turkey — 
which  took  no  notice 
of  his  pleadings,  but, 
to  add  to  his  terror 
and  dismay,  began 
to  rise  higher  and 
higher  into  the  night 
air,  carrying  the 
miserable    boy    with 

it.         Presently    they        -  The  Turkey   oi>ened 
came    to    the    street  smiled." 


where  he  lived.  Again  he  clutched 
the  turkey  by  the  neck  and  tried  to 
stop  it  ;  but  faster  and  faster  it  flew 
until  the  house  was  reached.  Johnnie 
could  bear  it  no  longer.  He  loosed 
his  hold  and,  with  a  vigorous  kick  at 
the  departing  bird,  he  jumped,  and 
found  himself  falling,  falling  through 
the  air,  down — down — down — O-o-o- 
oh  !  With  a  scream  he  awoke  to  find 
himself  grabbing  the  curly  head  of  his 
little  brother,  who  was  struggling  hard 
to  make  him  let  go. 

Then  what  a  laugh  they  all  had 
when  Johnnie  told 
his  dream  the  next 
morning  !  And  little 
George's  eyes  opened 
so  wide  with  wonder 
that  Johnnie  advised 
him  to  shut  them 
quick  or  they'd  split 
at  the  corners.  When 
Johnnie  came  to  the 
jumping-off  place  in 
his  story  the  excite- 
ment of  the  youngest 
reached  such  a  pitch 
that  he  began  to  cry. 
So  the  conversation 
had  to  be  changed ; 
for,  you  know,  it  was 
the  day  before  Christ- 
mas, and  everything 
had  to  be  made  as 
pleasant  as  possible 
for  ever)  body. 

Now,  before  the 
day  was  out,  Johnnie, 
at  least,  had  some- 
thing very  pleasant 
to  think  of.  Early 
that  morning  he  had 
earned  two  ten-cent 
pieces  and  a  five.  All 
day  he  waited  for  a 
chance  to  spend  it 
for  something  for  his 
mother — he  was  not 
quite  sure  yet  what 
it  was  to  be. 

Just  about  dusk 
he  found  time  to 
spin  down  town 
to    look    about    him 


its  mouth  and 


142 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


DRAWN    BV    BMILY    HAND 


'  Found  himself  falling,  falling  through 

the  air,  down — down — down — 

O-o-o-oh  ! " 


and  make  his  purchase.  As  he  came 
near  Mr.  Dwindle's  grocery  store  he 
couldn't  help  laughing"  as  he  remem- 
bered his  dream  and,  looking  up, 
espied  a  big  turkey  hanging  head 
downward  at  the  door.  This  one, 
however,  was  different  from  the  one 
he  made  the  acquaintance  of  the  night 
before,  for  its  feathers  were  off  and  its 
head  not  a  bit  alive-looking.  But  just 
as  Johnnie  stepped  close  to  where  it 
hung  the  cord  it  was  tied  with  broke, 
and  down  the  turkey  fell  right  into  his 
arms. 

Now,  here  was  a  Christmas  turkey 
thrown  at  him,  you  might  say;  here, 
again,  was  a  splendid  chance  to  skip 
away  home  with  it,  for  no  one  was 
looking.  But  I  am  glad  to  tell  you 
that  Johnnie  walked  right  into  the 
store  with  it  and,  flopping  it  down 
upon  the  counter,  told  Mr.  Dwindle 
how  he  had  got  it. 

"So  it  fell,  hey?"  wheezed  Mr. 
Dwindle.  He  was  a  fat  man,  you  see, 
and  his  voice  was  husky. 

"  And  your  folks  don't  like  turkey 
much,  so  you  gave  it  back — is  that  it, 
me  boy  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no — I  mean — yes,  we  do  like 
it,  but  I— I'll  tell  you."  And  tell  him 
he  did — all  about  his  funny  dream,  and 
how  much  they  all  would  like  a  turkey 
for  Christmas,  only  they  hadn't  money 
to  spare  to  buy  one — and  that  was  all 
about  it.  And  he  never  had  stolen 
anything  in  his  life,  and  wasn't  ever 
going  to,  either,  because  his  mother 
always  said — here  he  remembered  that 
he  ought  to  be  at  home,  so  he  said 
good-bye  to  Mr.  Dwindle  and  ran  out 
of  the  store. 

'*  Oh!  hi,  wait  a  second  !  "  shouted 
Mr.  Dwindle,  running  after  him.  And 
his  voice  was  huskier  than  ever  from 
the  effort  of  running,  I  suppose.  "  I 
don't  think  I  can  sell  this  bird  to  any- 
one now — it's  getting  late,  you  see, 
so  you  may  as  well  take  it  home  with 
you,  if  you  like — y'  deserve  it,  any- 
way, m'  boy,  for  catching  it  so  clev- 
erly, y'  know,  and  I  hope  y'll  have  a 
Merry  Christmas,  m'  boy — and  many 
of  them!  " 

Now,  are  you  not  sure  that  Johnnie 


THE  WAY  TO  PEACE 


•43 


DRAWN    BY    FMILY    HAND 


"And  are  you  not  certain  that  they  all  had  a  merry  Christmas  that  year?" 


was  a  happy  boy  ?  And  are  you  not 
certain  that  they  all  had  a  Merry 
Christmas  that  year?  They  have  had 
many  others,  too,  for  ever  since  that 
time  Johnnie  has  run  errands  and  tied 


up  parcels  for  kind  Mr.  Dwindle,  and 
every  Christmas  he  gets,  among  other 
good  things,  one  of  the  very  biggest 
and  best  of  the  many  big  and  good 
turkeys  that  are  brought  into  the  place. 


THE  WAY  TO  PEACE 


BY  INGLIS    MORSE 


TTE  who  would  sweetly  rest  from  haunting  strife 

That  drives  calm  solace  from  the  weary  mind, 
Must  learn  to  let  kind  thoughts  pervade  his  life. 
And  so,  through  these,  the  peace  of  Heaven  find. 


HON.    ANDREW   G.    BLAIR 


CANADIAN    CELEBRITIES 


NO.   57— HON.    ANDREW   G.    BLAIR 


HE  resignation  of  the  Hon. 
A.  G.  Blair  from  the  chair- 
manship of  the  Dominion 
Railway  Commission  on  the 
eve  of  the  F'ederal  elections 
has  brought  him  more  prominently  be- 
fore the  public  than  any  man  in  Canada 
save  Sir  Wilfrid  Laurier,  and  a  study 
of  his  career  and  character  should  be 
of  interest  to  all  Canadians  and  stu- 
dents of  Canadian  affairs. 

Since  1896  the  Hon.  A.  G.  Blair  has 
been  one  of  the  most  striking  person- 
alities in  our  Federal  politics.  For 
thirteen  years  previously  he  had  been 
the  *'  one  only  man  "  in  the  Province 
of  New  Brunswick,  and  had  held  its 
destinies    in  the   hollow  of  his  hand. 


This  eminent  Canadian  was  born  in 
Fredericton,  March  7,  1844.  He  is  of 
Scotch  descent,  and  has  many  of  his 
ancestors'  characteristics.  He  is  an 
indefatigable  worker,  a  lover  of  ideas, 
and  a  man  who  has  all  of  "  Freend 
Donald's  "  calm  reticence.  He  speaks 
but  seldom,  but  when  his  voice  is 
heard  it  is  with  no  equivocal  sound; 
and,  although  his  actions  have  on  sev- 
eral occasions  mystified  all  classes,  his 
position  on  national  and  international 
questions  has  ever  been  clearly  defined. 
This  brilliant  parliamentarian  was 
educated  at  the  Collegiate  School, 
Fredericton,  a  school  that  has  given 
the  early  training  to  many  of  the  most 
distinguished    men   in  the  East.     On 


CANADIAN  CELEBRITIES 


145 


graduating  from  this  institution  he 
began  the  study  of  law,  and  in  1866 
was  called  to  the  bar.  For  twelve 
years  he  devoted  himself  exclusively  to 
the  practice  of  his  profession,  and  dur- 
ing that  time  won  the  reputation  of 
being  the  ablest  counsel  in  his  Prov- 
ince. He  was  too  strong  a  man  to  be 
permitted  to  hold  aloof  from  public 
affairs,  and  in  1878  was  persuaded  to 
stand  for  York  County  for  the  New 
Brunswick  Assembly.  The  Macken- 
zie Government  had  become  discred- 
ited in  the  Dominion,  and  in  no  Prov- 
ince was  the  Liberal  party  at  a  lower 
ebb  than  in  New  Brunswick,  but  Mr. 
Blair  unhesitatingly  cast  his  lot  in  with 
the  minority.  He  was  elected;  but 
his  opponents  were  anxious  to  exclude 
a  man  of  his  calibre  from  the  House, 
and  a  petition  was  filed  against  his  re- 
turn. He  resigned,  and  once  more 
faced  the  electors  and  won,  although 
the  entire  strength  of  the  Government 
was  used  to  accomplish  his  defeat. 
He  now  found  himself  in  a  House 
hopelessly  Conservative,  the  Opposi- 
tion having  six  seats  and  the  Govern- 
ment forty-one.  Mr.  Blair  at  once 
proved  himself  the  ablest  man  in  his 
party,  and  in  one  year  after  beginning 
his  political  career  was  chosen  its 
leader.  He  rapidly  gained  a  follow- 
ing, and  in  1882  was  at  the  head  of  a 
stalwart  Opposition  of  seventeen  mem- 
bers. In  the  following  year  he  de- 
feated the  Hannington  Administration, 
and  was  called  on  to  form  a  Govern- 
ment. He  was  ready  for  the  occasion, 
and  in  one  day  selected  his  cabinet. 
He  has  since  been  to  New  Brunswick 
what  Sir  Oliver  Mowat  was  to  Ontario; 
and,  although  in  1896  he  entered  the 
larger  arena  of  Federal  politics,  men 
trained  by  him,  and  largely  guided  by 
him,  have  held  power. 

During  Mr.  Blair's  first  term  as 
Premier,  and  while  holding  the  posi- 
tion of  Attorney-General,  an  incident 
occurred  that  almost  ended  his  career. 
In  the  Circuit  Court  at  Bathurst  one 
Philias  Laitange  was  tried  for  murder. 
The  Court  pronounced  him  insane, 
but  Philias,  who,  from  Mr.  Blair's 
handling  of  the    case,    fully  expected 


the  death  penalty,  thought  that  such 
was  the  sentence.  The  prisoner  seized 
a  heavy  water-pitcher,  and  shouting 
out  in  a  frenzy  of  rage:  "  If  I'm  going 
to  hang,  you'll  die  first,"  smote  the 
Attorney-General  over  the  head  with  a 
well-directed  blow.  Fortunately  for 
Canada,  Mr.  Blair  was  merely  stunned- 

In  1886  the  Government  in  New 
Brunswick  narrowly  escaped  defeat. 
When  the  returns  were  made  the  par- 
ties were  practically  tied,  but  with  the 
four  members  from  Northumberland 
County  standing  aloof  in  a  semi-inde- 
pendent attitude.  They  had  indeed  been 
elected  with  the  tacit  understanding 
that  they  would  support  Hannington, 
but  they  had  their  price,  and  although 
Mr.  Blair  has  never  been  guilty  of  the 
corrupt  methods  that  have  disgraced 
both  political  parties  in  Quebec  and 
Ontario,  he  was  not  above  purchasing 
them  with  a  portfolio  and  a  reduction 
of  the  stumpage  tax,  the  real  issue  on 
which  they  were  elected.  When  the 
House  met  the  artillery  oi  the  Opposi- 
tion was  directed  against  the  Premier 
for  the  Northumberland  deal.  The 
Northumberland  members  unblush- 
ingly  laughed  at  their  abuse  and  jibes, 
while  Mr.  Blair  treated  them  with 
calm  indifference.  It  is  difficult  to 
applaud  his  action  on  this  occasion, 
but  the  solid  ability  of  Blair  was  infi- 
nitely better  for  the  Province  than 
the  frothy  commonplaceness  of  Han- 
nington. 

In  1887,  at  the  inierprovincial  con- 
ference held  at  Quebec,  Mr.  Blair  was 
one  of  the  most  prominent  representa- 
tives. .At  this  conference  he  endorsed 
a  motion  favoring  unrestricted  reci- 
procity, and  at  the  same  time  express- 
ing "  fervent  loyalty  to  Her  Majesty 
and  warm  attachment  to  British  con- 
nection." In  1893  he  attended  the 
celebrated  Liberal  convention  held  in 
Ottawa.  At  this  meeting  he  was 
chosen  vice-chairman,  and  in  accepting 
the  position  expressed  himself  with 
characteristic  brevity  on  the  unity  and 
solidarity  such  a  convention  should 
give  the  party.  Important  questions 
were  discussed  and  a  platform  based, 
but   on   the  subjects  under  discussion 


146 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


Mr.  Blair  kept  silent.  He  uttered  no 
words  that  he  would  have  to  take 
back,  made  no  promises  that  on  some 
future  occasion  he  might  have  to 
repudiate.  Indeed  during  the  whole 
of  his  career  he  seems  to  have  had  as 
his  motto  "silence  is  golden." 

The  dark  days  for  the  Liberal  party 
were  rapidly  passing,  and  in  1896  it 
was  elected  to  power  with  a  substan- 
tial majority,  and  Mr.  Blair  as  the 
ablest  statesman  in  New  Brunswick 
was  given  the  portfolio  of  Railways 
and  Canals,  and  he  resigned  his  pre- 
miership. During  the  thirteen  years 
in  which  he  had  led  the  Government 
of  his  province  he  might  be  said  to 
have  broken  down  party  lines.  He 
recognised  that  for  the  management  of 
local  affairs  good  business  men  were 
needed,  and  he  formed  truly  coalition 
cabinets.  From  the  beginning  of  his 
leadership  he  worked  side  by  side  with 
men  who  in  Federal  politics  were  his 
political  opponents.  Much  of  his  suc- 
cess was  due  to  his  freedom  from 
prejudice,  and  while  party  government 
is  a  necessity  where  great  national 
issues  are  at  stake  it  would  be  un- 
doubtedly of  benefit  to  all  the  provinces 
if  the  local  governments  were  con- 
ducted along  his  lines.  As  Minister 
of  Railways  and  Canals  he  worked 
with  the  same  energy  for  the  good  of 
the  Dominion  that  he  had  exercised 
for  the  welfare  of  New  Brunswick,  and 
the  vast  improvement  made  in  the  effi- 
ciency of  the  Intercolonial  Railway  is 
an  evidence  of  his  thoroughness  and 
wisdom.  He  was  soon  recognised  as 
one  of  our  greatest  railway  experts, 
and  in  the  councils  of  the  railway  mag- 
nates no  man's  opinions  were  listened 
to  with  greater  respect.  He  held  his 
Cabinet  position  until  1903,  when  the 
project  of  the  Grand  Trunk  Pacific  was 
suddenly  launched.  He  disapproved 
of  the  method  adopted  by  the  Govern- 
ment for  the  building  of  this  line,  and 
in  the  heat  of  the  discussion  resigned 
his  portfolio.  He  trenchantly  criticised 
the  Government's  policy,  but  did  not 
break  with  his  party  or  lose  the  respect 
and  confidence  of  his  leader,  Sir  Wil- 
frid   Laurier.       Later    it    was   with    a 


feeling  of  surprise  and  pain  that  many 
of  his  admirers  learned  that  he  was 
about  to  accept  the  Chairmanship  of 
the  Railway  Commission  appointed  to 
deal  with  all  questions  relating  to  the 
railway  systems  of  Canada.  But  it  must 
be  remembered  that  this  commission 
had  been  a  pet  scheme  of  Mr.  Blair's, 
and  for  the  duties  required  of  him  he 
was  head  and  shoulders  over  any  other 
man  in  Canada.  In  his  new  office  his 
work  was  ably  judicial  ;  but  he  was 
still  out  of  harmony  with  the  Govern- 
ment's policy,  and  on  the  eve  of  the 
Federal  elections  resigned  his  chair- 
manship. His  action  mystified  friends 
and  foes  alike.  On  the  one  hand  it 
was  thought  that  he  should  have 
waited  until  the  battle  had  been 
fought;  on  the  other  it  was  expect- 
ed that  he  would  stump  the  country 
against  the  Government,  as  the  only 
real  issue  before  the  country  was  the 
building  of  the  Grand  Trunk  Pacific. 
His  action  can  have  but  one  ending  ; 
if  he  remains  in  public  life  he  will 
have  to  join  forces  with  the  Opposition. 
Mr.  Blair  has  ever  been  a  hard  man  to 
control,  and  since  1896  his  associates 
have  been  kept  in  a  nervous  state  of 
tension  as  to  what  course  he  might 
pursue.  He  proved  himself  heedless  of 
party  in  New  Brunswick,  and  he  has 
to  some  extent  done  the  same  in  the 
Dominion.  The  Conservatives  made 
a  bid  to  win  him  to  their  side  when  he 
left  the  Cabinet  and  again  when  he 
resigned  from  the  Commission.  Had 
he  listened  to  their  appeals  he  would 
have  been  in  no  way  breaking  with  his 
past,  and  would  undoubtedly  soon 
have  found  himself  leader  of  the 
Opposition. 

There  is  another  side  to  Mr.  Blair's 
character  that  the  public  is  apt  to 
overlook.  He  is  a  student  and  a  lover 
of  art  and  fine  books.  His  library  is 
one  of  the  best  in  Canada,  and  when 
he  resigned  from  the  Cabinet  he  felt 
like  a  slave  who  had  cast  off  his  chains 
and  was  once  more  to  associate  with 
his  best  friends,  his  books.  He  is  one 
of  the  most  genial  of  men,  and  has  a 
host  of  friends,  especially  among  young 
men,  and  those  intimately  associated 


THE  ACE  OF  HEARTS 


H7 


with  him  in  life  have  found  him  a  most 
lovable  personality.  He  is  a  man,  too, 
whose  very  appearance  attracts,  and 
anyone  meeting  him  in  the  streets  of  a 
city  would  turn  to  take  a  second  look 
at  his  impressive  figure  with  his  erect, 


massive  head  set  between  his  broad 
shoulders.  A  leader  of  men  he  has 
ever  been  and,  although  he  is  ap- 
parently resting  now,  his  leadership  is 
not  yet  ended. 

T".   G.  Marquis 


THE  ACE  OF  HEARTS* 

By   W.  A.  ERASER,  author  oj  ^* Thoroughbreds,''  ''Brave  Hearts," 

''Mooswa"  etc. 


OUR  men  were  sitting  down 
to  a  rubber  of  whist  in  the 
verandah  of  the  Gymkhana 
Club  in  Arakan.  They 
had  dined,  which  was  wise, 
for  "the  Devil  lurketh  in  an  empty 
stomach,"  say  the  Burmese,  and  no 
man  can  see  the  end  of  luck. 

Cook  and  the  Major  cut  together  as 
partners,  and  Campbell  sat  opposite 
Herbert.  Then,  because  the  seat  next 
the  wall  was  out  of  the  breeze  and  hot, 
they  cut  again  for  seats.  That  was 
the  Major's  doing — he  was  always  like 
that,  arranging  things  fairly. 

•'  Here,  you  fellows,  cut!"  cried  the 
Major.  "  Campbell  has  cut  the  Queen 
and  I  have  turned  up  the  deuce,  so  I 
suppose  I  have  won  the  warm  corner." 

Herbert  cut  a  "ten,"  and  Cook 
turned  over  the  card  he  had  been 
holding  face  down — it  was  the  ace  of 
hearts. 

"  For  downright  cooley-headed  luck 
commend  me  to  Cook,"  laughed  the 
Major,  as  that  gentleman  pitched  into 
the  hot  seat. 

And  the  cutting  of  the  cards  was 
the  drawing  of  lives  in  a  lottery. 

"Can't  make  it  out,"  sighed  the 
Major,  as  he  watched  Cook  throw 
away  with  consummate  care  every 
chance  which  came  his  way.  "  It's 
'  sun,'  or  the  boy's  in  love." 

Then  the  god  of  whist  cursed  with 
bad  luck  the  Major  and  his  partner. 
That    was    because  Cook    nursed    six 


trumps  until  they  were  as  a  long-kept 
ulster — useless. 

"  You've  the  best  of  the  seats,  after 
all.  Cook,"  broke  in  Campbell,  "  for 
the  breeze  that  cuts  across  the  corner 
of  the  verandah  here  is  heavy-laden 
with  the  perfume  of  the  native  town; 
and  it's  Gnapie,  my  boy,  sweet  gnapie, 
which  I  will  back  to  knock  out  all  the 
scents  of  Naples  Bay." 

"  It's  like  a  graveyard,"  grunted 
Herbert,  lighting  a  cheroot;  "  it  makes 
me  ill." 

In  the  billiard  room  someone  was 
picking  at  a  banjo.  Suddenly  a  fresh, 
sweet  voice  sang  a  verse  from  the 
"  Bengali  Baboo,"  and  the  players 
joined  in  the  chorus: 

'*  Kutch  perwani,  good  time  coming, 

sing  'Britannia  rules  the  wave*; 
Jolly   good    fellow,    go    home    in  the 

morning,  how  the   Baboo  can  make 

slave. " 

Only  Cook  did  not  sing.  He  sat 
like  a  grave-digger — a  sense  of  com- 
ing evil  had  spread  its  gloom  over 
him. 

Then  he  made  the  second  misdeal 
in  twenty  minutes.  The  Major  never 
moved  a  muscle — he  was  facing  the 
guns  now.  He  bit  the  corner  of  his 
iron-gray  moustache,  and  looked 
straight  into  his  hand. 

"Ju.st  as  I  thought,"  he  muttered; 
"  the  young  ass  has  lost  his  head  over 
'  May,'  and  there'll  be  no  end  of  a  row 


*  Copyrighted  in  Great  Britain  and  the  United  States. 


148 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


about  it.  The  Colonel  will  never  let 
May  take  up  with  a  merchant;  why, 
he'd  turn  his  nose  up  at  a  Civil  Ser- 
vant. He's  a  good  enough  little  chap, 
but  his  position  isn't  in  it  with  the 
Colonel." 

Then  Campbell  ordered  a  bottle  of 
"  Simpkin,"  swearing  that  he  couldn't 
stand  Cook's  long  face,  and  that  they'd 
have  to  drink  the  blue  devils  out  of  the 
game. 

"  Here's  to  the  little  woman  that's 
driving  the  whist  out  of  your  head. 
Cook,"  said  Campbell,  holding  his 
glass  up. 

"  Sh  — "  broke  in  the  Major,  "leave 
the  ladies  out  of  it." 

The  wine  made  no  difference.  The 
luck  ran  just  the  same,  dead  against 
Cook  and  the  Major.  Cook  was  play- 
ing like  one  in  a  dream;  the  voices  of 
his  companions  sounded  far  away. 

The  Major  called  for  trumps  — 
"shrieked  for  them,"  as  he  put  it — 
but  his  partner  was  oblivious  of  such 
trifles.  There  is  only  one  result  to 
such  play — disaster. 

"  I'm  sorry.  Major,"  said  Cook, 
when  the  rub  was  over,  "for  playing 
bumble-puppy  with  the  game,  but 
there  is  something;  when  I  put  my 
hand  over  to  your  side  of  the  table  I 
feel  as  though  I  were  touching  a 
corpse." 

He  was  serious  enough,  but  the 
others  laughed.  "  Bets  are  off  when 
a  man's  dead,"  said  the  Major,  "so 
you  will  have  to  pay  the  whole  shot, 
my  dear  boy,  if  I'm  dead.  I  tell  you 
what  it  is:  if  you  keep  on,  I  shall  go 
behind  this  month.  If  it  were  not  for 
the  money  I  make  out  of  you  Juniors, 
I  should  be  in  a  bad  way." 

They  all  knew  that  he'd  give  away 
everything  he  could  not  lose  in  a  fair 
gamble  if  anyone  needed  it — all  but 
one  thing,  the  V.  C.  on  his  breast. 
That  was  the  one  thing  he  did  seem  to 
care  for  ;  that,  and  the  service. 

The  "V.  C."  he  got  up  in  Afghanis- 
tan when  he  drove  a  horde  of  blood- 
thirsty Patans  back  from  a  wounded 
boy  of  a  lieutenant  they  were  trying 
to  spit,  and  carried  him  in  under  his 
left  arm. 


But  the  "  Something  "  kept  grinning 
at  Cook  from  among  the  glasses  and 
cards,  and  sometimes  it  was  peering 
at  him  over  the  shoulder  of  one  player 
and  sometimes  the  other.  He  saw  it 
plain  enough,  but  to  speak  of  it  simply 
meant  unlimited  chaff  and  an  "after" 
that  might  stick  to  him.  It  does  not 
do  to  see  "Things"  and  speak  about 
them.  A  man  may  hold  his  tongue, 
though  it  feel  like  Irish  frieze,  and  as 
dry  and  thick,  but  he  cannot  help  the 
nerves — nor  the  cold  damp  on  the 
forehead,  either. 

The  Club  was  very  quiet,  and  the 
fellows  who  had  been  clicking  the  balls 
in  the  billiard  room  and  singing  bits 
of  songs  had  gone  home.  Suddenly 
from  the  shadow  of  the  sloping  bamboo 
roof  a  harsh,  grating  voice  called 
"Tucktoo!" 

Cook  jumped  perceptibly,  and  the 
pins  were  sticking  sharper  than  ever 
in  his  scalp.  ' 

Seven  times  the  voice  called  in  that 
sharp,  imperious  way,  the  last  cry 
dying  out  in  a  long-drawn  "A-A-A- 
huh!" 

"Hello!  are  you  back  again?" 
queried  the  Major,  peering  at  the  roof. 
"  Something  must  be  going  to  happen. 
When  I  came  here  the  Gym  was  blest 
with  a  lucky  Tuck-too,  a  regular 
mascot,  but  Hashim  assured  me  that 
he  left  the  day  after  I  set  foot  in  the 
place.  I  wonder  if  he  thinks  that  I 
am  not  coming  here  any  more  ?  Per- 
haps my  luck  is  going  to  change. 
Why  luck  should  be  associated  with 
those  hideous — " 

"Tucktoo!  Tucktoo!  Tuck-ta- 
a-h  !  "  drawled  the  lizard  inr  derision, 
overhead. 

"Oh,  never  mind  him.  Major!" 
broke  in  Herbert;  "he's  only  after 
the  flies — he  finds  it  deuced  good 
stalking  round  when  the  lights  are 
going." 

The  Club  was  very  quiet — "creepy" 
Cook  called  it.  Suddenly  the  big, 
brazen  gong  over  by  the  Cutcherry 
sent  out  a  booming  note,  as  the  senti- 
nel swung  his  heavy  wooden  mallet. 
Then  again,  and  again,  twelve  times; 
it  was  midnight. 


THE  ACE  OF  HEARTS 


"49 


••  Ah  !  I  wish  that  were  '  Big  Ben' 
calling  to  me  from  Westminster,  and 
this  my  club  at  home,"  sighed  the 
Major;  then  he  added  abruptly: 
"Time's  up,  gentlemen.  It's  Sunday 
morning." 

"Come  on.  Cook,  I'll  drop  you 
home  in  my  trap.  You  look  as  though 
the  '  Mulligatawny '  had  been  a  little 
too  heavy  for  you." 

Just  as  they  rose  from  the  table  the 
weird,  ghostly  call  of  a  jackal  came 
cutting  through  the  heavy  night  air 
like  the  thrust  of  a  javelin.  Then 
another  answered  from  the  other  side 
of  the  big  maidan  just  opposite.  Then 
another  and  another  took  up  the 
dismal,  wailing  note,  until  the  whole 
night  was  made  hideous  with  their 
ghoulish  din. 

Cold  drops  of  perspiration  stood  out 
like  beads  on  Cook's  forehead.  "Hold 
on,"  he  gasped,  "  I  must  have  a  peg 
before  I  go — 1  fancy  I'm  a  little  off." 

.\s  the  grey  Waler  mare  swung 
them  around  the  white  stone  post 
where  the  club  road  turned  into  the 
main  street,  the  .Major  felt  someone 
get  up  behind  on  the  dog-cart. 

"  Is  that  you, Campbell?"  he  asked, 
for  he  could  see  the  syce  running  on 
ahead  yet.  No  one  answered,  and  he 
looked  around — there  was  no  one  there. 

"  Deuced  queer,"  he  muttered;  "  I 
could  have  sworn  that  someone  jumped 
up  behind  as  we  struck  the  road." 

Cook  did  not  speak — he  could  see 
//  up  behind  there,  peering  at  him 
over  the  syce's  shoulder,  who  was 
also  up  in  his  place  on  the  back  seat 
now. 

Cook  looked  after  the  high-wheeled 
dog-cart  as  it  whirled  away  down  the 
gravelled  road  after  the  Major  had 
dropped  him  at  his  bungalow  ;  there 
were  three  figures  still  in  the  trap. 

"I'm  glad  Lutyens  felt  it  get  up 
behind,"  he  muttered  as  he  turned  into 
the  bungalow;  "my head  ishot  enough, 
but  it's  not  there  that  the  trouble  is — 
he  felt  'It'  get  up  behind,  and,  God 
knows,  I've  seen  nothing  else  since 
we  left  the  club.  And  it  was  sitting 
there  beside  the  Major  as  he  drove  off. 
God!   I  hope  it's  not  Lutyens." 


The  next  day  about  lo  o'clock, 
Cook's  head  clerk,  Baboo  Grish 
Chunder,   came  to  the  bungalow. 

"Cholera  get  plenty  worse.  Sir!" 
said  the  Baboo.  "All  Burmese  cool- 
ies under  Manji  Nee  Aung  run  away 
last  night.  They  plenty  'fraid  this 
seekness.  Sir.  Ramsammy  tellin'  me 
Herbert  Sahib,  he  gettin'  chol'ra  too." 

"Great  God!"  he  muttered,  "that's 
the  first." 

Then  he  ordered  his  trap  and  drove 
over  to  Herbert's  bungalow.  As  he 
pulled  up  his  pony,  a  man  came  out  on 
the  verandah — it  was  Major  Lutyens. 
His  voice  was  querulous  as  he  said: 
"  Look  here,  youngster,  just  turn  your 
pony's  head  about  and  drive  off  to 
your  own  bungalow  again.  You  can't 
do  any  good  here,  and  I  shall  see  after 
Herbert  all  right." 

But  Cook  got  xlown  from  his  cart  in 
a  quiet,  determined  way,  and  told  the 
syce  to  put  the  pony  under  a  neigh- 
bouring banyan  tree. 

Then  Lutyens  spoke  again.  "You're 
young,  Cook,  and  you've  got  it  all 
before  you.  I'll  see  that  Herbert  has 
every  care — of  course,  the  black  devils 
will  all  clear  out  and  leave  him  alone, 
but  I'll  stop,  and  the  doctor  will  send 
an  assistant  down  from  the  hospital 
if  he  can  spare  one.  He  says  that  it's 
simply  hell  up  there.  All  the  wards 
are  full  of  the  cholera  patients,  and  the 
assistants  are  clearing  out — God  knows 
he  hadn't  too  many  as  it  was.  So, 
now,  clear  off  home,  and  don't  drink 
any  water  that  anybody  has  even 
looked  at." 

But  Cook  had  come  up  on  the  ver- 
andah by  this  time,  and  was  coolly 
lighting  a  cheroot. 

"Do  you  hear  ?"  said  Lutyens.  "  It 
doesn't  matter  if  it  does  come  my  way; 
I've  seen  all  there  is  to  see,  and, 
besides,  what  does  it  matter  to  a  man 
who  couldn't  poste  obit  a  note  for 
enough  to  buy  a  dinner  at  the  Great 
Eastern  ?  I  think  you  ought  to  cut 
it  for  Somebody's  sake,  if  not  for  your 
own — you'll  be  all  right  in  that  quar- 
ter some  day,  perhaps." 

But  his  words  seemed  to  have  but 
little  effect  on  Cook,  who  puffed  at  his 


«5o 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


cheroot  leisurely,  and  seemed  to  be 
waiting  until  Lutyens  should  have 
finished. 

"As  for  me,"  continued  the  Major, 
'*  I  really  fancy  that  I  am  in  for  it, 
anyway;  the  breeze  that  blew  across 
the  table  last  night  over  the  three  of 
us  carried  this  infernal  thing,  this 
cholera — it  was  that  which  Campbell 
thought  was  the  perfume  of  gnapie. 
You  missed  it  where  you  sat — the  ace 
of  hearts  let  you  out." 

"It  doesn't  matter  about  all  that, 
Major,"  answered  Cook,  doggedly; 
"I'vecomeup  tohelplookafter  Herbert. 
I  haven't  had  as  much  experience  as 
you,  but  I  know  what  it  is  like  when 
this  thing  comes  along.  All  the  ser- 
vants clear  out  and  leave  a  man  to  shift 
for  himself— that  means  shifting  over 
the  river.  I  am  sure  it  was  last  night 
did  it,  and  because  I  was  lucky  enough 
to  get  the  sheltered  seat  I  am  not 
going  to  back  out  of  it  that  way.  I 
am  going  to  see  the  game  through." 

A  soft,  mellow  light  came  into  the 
Major's  deep-grey  eyes  as  he  held  out 
his  hand  and  said:  "  You  should  have 
been  in  the  service.  Cook — come 
inside." 

There  was  no  doubt  about  it — the 
surgeon  said  it  was  pukka  cholera,  and 
only  the  best  possible  care  could  save 
Herbert. 

It  is  always  the  same — the  fight  is 
short  and  sharp;  soon  settled  one  way 
or  the  other — more  often  the  other. 

In  India  there  is  no  hurry;  Life  is 
slow,  but  "Death  gallops  on  the 
King's  horse."  Yes,  death  is  fast 
there — the  yellow-whirlwind  rush  of 
the  tiger,  the  cobra's  dart,  the  coming 
of  the  black  death — the  cholera — these 
are  "  ek  dum"  (at  once),  where  all 
else  is  so  slow. 

Side  by  side  the  two  men  fought 
through  the  silent  watches  of  the  night 
for  the  life  of  their  friend,  but  as  the 
gray  streaked  the  sky  next  morning 
the  blue  nails  were  driven  into  the 
white,  cramped  palms  for  the  last 
time.      It  was  settled — the  other  way. 

One  hand  had  been  played  out,  and 
together  they  must  go  on,  for  Camp- 
bell was  down  now. 


There  was  no  questioning,  no 
admonition  now  to  turn  back;  silently, 
steadily  they  fought  it  all  over  again, 
fought  the  hideous  black  thing  that 
came  down  from  Chittigong  with  the 
coolies  coming  to  the  rice  mills. 

On  the  third  morning  there  were 
but  two  left ;  another  hand  had  been 
played  out. 

"Now,  my  boy,"  said  Lutyens  to 
Cook,  as  he  left  him  at  his  own  door, 
"  I  am  going  home,  and  if  you  hear 
that  I  am  down  with  this,  and  come 
near  the  bungalow,  I'll  shoot  you — by 
God!   I  will." 

Cook  climbed  wearily  up  the  steps 
of  the  bungalow  and  threw  himself 
into  a  chair. 

"  Poor  old  man,"  he  murmured, 
"God  grant  it  may  pass  him!  Poor 
old  man  " — and  then  his  head  dropped 
heavily  to  one  side  as  he  sat  in  the 
chair.  He  slept  like  a  log — the  sleep 
of  exhaustion.  At  tiffin  time  the 
Khitmutghar  woke  him  up. 

"  Go  over  and  find  out  how  Major 
Lutyens  is,"  he  commanded.  "  Don't 
let  him  see  you." 

Then  he  ate  a  little,  and  drank;  it 
was  safest,  and  would  keep  his 
strength  up  for  the  last  fight,  which 
he  felt  must  come — the  last  hand  in  the 
rubber.  After  that — ?  He  really  didn't 
care  very  much,  he  was  so  tired. 

He  drove  to  his  office;  things  were 
going  all  right  there,  so  he  drove 
home  again. 

"  Major  Sahib  seek,  Sah,"  was  the 
laconic  report  of  his  Khitmutghar. 

Whatever  had  been  the  Major's 
intentions  with  regard  to  the  shooting, 
he  had  no  chance  to  put  them  in 
execution,  for  Cook  walked  into  his 
bedroom  unannounced.  That  he  swore 
and  called  Cook  a  young  ass  did  not 
matter  in  the  least. 

The  Surgeon  had  been  there,  and  it 
was  the  same  thing  over  again,  only 
now  it  was  drawing  toward  the  end. 
There  was  only  one  to  fight. 

Later  on  in  the  evening,  when  the 
terrible  spasms  had  left  Lutyens  for  a 
few  minutes,  he  turned  his  grey  eyes, 
now  grown  so  large  and  luminous,  on 
Cook,    and   said:    "It's    no    use,    old 


BE A UTY 


151 


man ;  I  never  funked  it  in  my  life,  and 
don't  now,  but  we  simply  can't  beat 
out  Fate — Mera  Kismet,  as  the  natives 
have  it.  There  was  only  one  life  out 
of  the  four  to  be  spared,  and  you  got 
it  when  you  cut  the  ace  of  hearts. 
You  deserve  it  all,  for  you're  pluck  to 
the  backbone.  Come  here  till  I  pin 
this  V.C.  on  your  breast,  to  show  you 
what  a  dying  man  thinks  of  you.  Of 
course  I  can't  give  it  to  you — I  only 
wish  I  could,  for  if  ever  a  man  deserved 
the  Victoria  Cross,  you  do.  I  shall 
be  buried  with  it  on  my  breast,  but  let 
my  eye  rest  on  it  where  it  is  now  till 
all  is  over.  I  would  rather  die  wKh 
the  cheer  of  my  men  behind  me,  and 
the  howl  of  the  enemy  in  front.  God ! 
how  we  pricked  those  Afghan  devils 
with  the  cold  steel  the  day  I  won  that 
on  your  breast.  But  I  know  when  I'm 
beaten,  and  shan't  fret  about  it. 

'*  I  think  I  had  better  tell  you  some- 
thing that  is  on  my  mind  while  I  am 
talking.  I  myself  loved  May — every- 
body did,  I  think — she  never  knew  it, 
though.  It  wasn't  good  enough  for 
her  —  my  love,  I  mean.  The  old 
Colonel  was  sweet  on  Herbert,  and 
the  title,  and  all  the  rest  of  it.  Her- 
bert, too,  was  madly  in  love  with  her, 
but  you  didn't  know  that.  Cook.  In 
some  things  your  innocence  is  simply 
lovable. 

"  Promise  me  this,  comrade,  that 
when  toward  the  end  I  begin  to 
weaken,  and  the  cramps  double  me 
up,  so  that  you  have  to  use  all  your 
strength  to  pull  my  head  from 
between  my  knees,  you  won't  pay 
any  attention  when  I  ask  you  to  put 
an  end  to  it  all  by  giving  me  an  over- 
dose of  chlorodyne,  or  a  bullet,  or 
something.  Just  let  me  fight  it  out  to 
the  end,  then  there  will  be  no  after- 
math of  misery  for  you." 


All  this  talk  did  not  come  at  once. 
There  were  the  terrible  and  increasing 
spasms,  and  between,  brief  spells  of 
semi-collapse  and  quiet,  in  which  the 
brave  man,  dying  surely  and  horribly, 
talked. 

It  was  only  a  little  longer — as  with 
the  others.  The  surgeon  and  the 
drugs,  and  the  brandy,  and  the  rest  of 
it,  were  as  idle  as  the  tears  that 
coursed  down  poor  Cook's  cheeks — 
the  round  cheeks  that  were  now  so 
pale  and  drawn — as  he  worked  over 
his  dying  friend. 

"God  bless  —  hearts  —  yes  —  ye-s 
— the  —  the  —  ace  —  Cook  — the — the — 
the  ace  of  hearts." 

It  were  better  thus.  He  did  not 
feel  the  pain  now — did  not  know. 

Then  the  eyes  cleared  for  a  minute, 
and  the  lips  moved — very  dry  and  white 
they  were.  Cook  put  his  ear  down  close. 
"  Good-bye,  May — Cook,"  sounded 
like  the  dying  sigh  of  a  gentle  breeze. 
The  third  and  last  hand  had  been 
played  out  in  that  game  of  death. 

Cook  drove  home  alone  this  time. 
There  was  nothing  sitting  on  the  seat 
behind  now — not  even  the  syce.  The 
Sahib  was  mad  to  expose  himself  to 
this  terrible  thing — he  would  rather 
run  behind.  They  are  careful  servants, 
the  natives — of  themselves. 

There  was  no  marriage.  It  is  often 
that  way  in  India — more  of  death  than 
marriage. 

"I  loved  Major  Lutyens  more  than 
I  shall  ever  love  any  other  man,"  May 
said  simply  to  Cook  when  he  asked 
her  to  be  his  wife,  "  but  I  suppose  he 
never  even  thought  of  me.  I  avoided 
him  because  I  knew  he  did  not  care  for 
me. 

That  was  why  there  was  no  marriage. 
The  Ace  of  Hearts  rests  on   Cook's 
dressing-table,  framed  in  silver. 


BEAUTY 


BY  INGLIS    MORSE 

ALL  beauty  lies  in  man: 
'Tis  he  alone  who  rears 
An  ideal  world  of  art 
Through  passing  of  fhe  years. 


A  CHRISTMAS  PRESENT 


By  G.   B.  BURGIN,  Author  of  ''The  Ladies  of  the  Manor,'' 

oj  Silence  J" 


The  Shutters 


ERE  I  to  employ  all  the 
powers  of  sarcasm  at  my 
command,  I  should  simply 
wither  you.  Wither  you," 
repeated  Mr.  Gellatly 
Grime,  with  emphasis.  "As  it  is — 
door,  Ja " 

"  Pardon  me,"  said  the  young  man, 
"but  you  do  not  seem  to  be  aware 
that,  as  yet,  all  the  discussion  of  this 
somewhat  important  matter  has  been 
on  your  side." 

"Well,  sir,  well?  I  am  the  young 
lady's  father. " 

"  She  cannot  be  responsible  for 
Nature's  mistakes,"  softly  murmured 
Hartley  Munro  to  himself.  Fortu- 
nately, Mr.  Gellatly  Grime  was 
slightly  deaf,  and  did  not  hear  him. 

"Well,  sir,  well?"  interrogatively 
repeated  Mr.  Gellatly  Grime.  "  In 
the  absurdly  improbable  event  of  my 
listening  to  your  request  for  my  daugh- 
ter Honoria's  hand,  may  I  ask  what 
are  your  expectations,  and  how  do 
you  propose  to  live?" 

"  We  expected  to  live  on " 

"  On  me?" 

"With  your  assistance,  for  a  little 
while,"  modestly  returned  the  young 
man.  "We  should  feel  it  our  duty  to 
comfort  your  declining  years." 

"They  are  only  declining  to  the 
extent  of  not  accepting  your  oflFer," 
said  Mr.  Gellatly  Grime.  He  touched 
the  bell,  but  Hartley  Munro,  with  the 
brazen  self-sufficiency  of  happy  and 
inexperienced  youth,  put  his  hand  on 
his  arm.  "One  moment,  my  dear 
sir.     One  moment." 

Mr.  Gellatly  Grime  glared  at  him. 
"Are  you  aware,  sir,  that  I  am  the 
director  of  several  public  companies, 
and  that  every  second  of  my  time  is 
golden  ?" 

"Oh,   it's    only  just    after   dinner. 


Besides,  we  don't  like  you  to  work  so 
hard  for  our  benefit,"  suggested  Hart- 
ley Munro.    "  What's  the  good  of  it?" 

"  'Our'  benefit?" 

"  Yes — our  benefit.  You'll  have  to 
die  some  day,  you  know;  and  you  also 
know  that  you  can't  take  your  money 
with  you." 

"And  I  further  know  that  as  long 
as  it  pleases  Providence  to  spare  me 
to  carry  on  the  momentous  undertak- 
ings in  which  I  am  interested  " — he 
was  quoting  from  his  last  great  speech 
— "  I  intend  to — to " 

"  Stick  to  it,"  sympathetically  sug- 
gested Munro.  "Quite  right,  sir. 
Quite  right.  Only  we'd  like  to  have 
you  with  us  as  long  as  possible. 
Don't  want  any  more  undertakings 
in  the  family,  you  know." 

Mr  Gellatly  Grime  nearly  foamed  at 

the  mouth.      "  Your  effrontery!    Door 

» 

"  Pardon  me,  my  dear  sir.  You 
will  make  this  discussion  so  one- 
sided. You  invite  me  to  dinner — and 
a  very  excellent  dinner  it  is,"  he  added. 
"  Never  had  such  a  good  dinner  in 
my  life." 

Mr.  Gellatly  Grime  was  partly  mol- 
lified. 

"  Well,  sir?"  Dinner  always  ap- 
pealed to  his  highest  instincts.  In- 
deed, that  part  of  his  frame  which 
nowadays  we  euphemistically  call  ' '  Lit- 
tle Mary "  (thereby  irretrievably  de- 
grading one  of  the  loveliest  feminine 
names)  could  no  longer  truthfully  be 
called  "little,"  partaking  as  it  so 
largely  did  of  the  shape  of  a  suburban 
bow  window. 

"  It  would  be  well  if  you'd  only 
listen  to  me,"  pleaded  the  happy  young 
man.  "  With  your  assistance  this 
invention  of  mine  could  be  developed, 
I  could  marry  Honoria,  you  could 
come  on    the    board  of  the   company 


•Copyright  1904  by  the  National 'Press  Agency. 


«S» 


A  CHRISTMAS  PRESENT 


153 


and  make  some  money  for  us,  or  go 
into  Parliament;  and  we  should  all  be 
happy  together.  Of  course,  if  you 
elect  to  become  the  customary  stage 
parent,  decline  to  help  us,  foam  at  the 
mouth,  and  all  that  sort  of  thing-, 
you'll  probably  have  a  fit,  and  die 
without  words  of  sweet  forgiveness 
on  your  lips.  You  men  of  strict  busi- 
ness habits  never  do  make  wills,  be- 
cause you  are  so  afraid  to  die.  Con- 
sequently, when  Honoria  and  I  reap 
the  benefit  of  all  your  money,  wher- 
ever you  are  you  will  doubtless  be 
very  much  annoyed." 

Mr.  Gellatly  Grime  stood  on  the 
hearthrug  and  swelled,  physically  and 
mentally.  "Your  proposition  savours 
of  blackmail,  sir.  You  could  not  give 
my  daughter  the  luxuries  to  which  she 
is  accustomed.  What  is  your  present 
income  ?  " 

"Just  now" — the  young  man  looked 
at  his  watch — "it  is  a  hundred  and 
fifty  a  year.  If,  as  I  expect,  the  syndi- 
cate which  is  considering  my  invention 
at  this  moment  has  resolved  to  take  it 
up,  it  is  probably  increasing  every 
second." 

Mr.  Gellatly  Grime  was  struck  by  Mr. 
Munro's  coolness.  "What  did  you  say 
the  name  of  your  invention  was?" 

"Pardon  me,  sir,  but  I  am  pledged 
to  the  syndicate  not  to  mention  even 
the  name  or  the  nature  of  it  until 
January  next,  and  this  is  only  Christ- 
mas Eve,"  said  the  young  man. 

Mr.  Gellatly  Grime  reflected.  He 
had  been  approached  by  a  syndicate 
that  afternoon  about  a  patent  which 
promised  a  complete  revolution  in  the 
construction  of  steam  engines — a 
patent  which  was  to  make  a  small 
engine  do  the  work  of  a  big  one.  He 
had  contemptuously  declined  to  "go 
in"  with  the  promoters,  besides  care- 
fully advising  them  that  they  were 
throwing  money  away.  At  the  same 
time,  he  had  made  a  note  to  get  behind 
the  promoters,  if  possible,  and  find  out 
the  real  value  of  their  patent.  But  it 
was  absurd  to  suppose  that  a  flippant 
young  man  like  Munro  could  by  any 
possibility  have  anything  to  do  with 
such  a  patent.      He  sneered. 


"I  waste  a  good  dinner  on  you,"  he 
said  with  imposing  majesty,  "and  in 
return  you  propose  to  rob  me  of  my 
only  daughter.  Be  content  with  your 
dinner^  and  let  us  part  in  amity." 

The  young  man  hesitated.  "Im- 
possible, my  dear  sir.      Impossible." 

"Why  impossible?"  Mr.  Gellatly 
Grime  softened,  for  Munro  evidently 
began  to  see  things  in  their  true 
light. 

"For  a  good  many  reasons,"  Munro 
declared.  "Your  dinner  was  so  good 
that  I  can't  help  thinking  what  a  lot 
Honoria  is  sure  to  know  about  the 
production  of  good  dinners." 

"She  may  know,  but  good  dinners 
cost  money,  young  man.  Money!" 
He  jingled  his  seals  impressively. 

"Of  course,  my  dear  sir;  but  when 
we  get  money,  as  we  shall  do,  it  is 
just  as  well  to  make  the  best  use  of  it, 
and  I  am  sure  Honoria,  under  your 
able  tuition,  must  have  learnt  to  know 
a  good  dinner  when  she  sees  one." 

"Possibly,"  said  the  old  man,  drily. 
"Possibly!  The  only  flaw  in  your 
reasoning,  Munro,  is  that  there  is  no 
necessity  for  her  to  share  her  knowl- 
edge with  you.  You'd  better  not  come 
up  to  the  drawing-room.  I  will  tell 
Honoria  that  you  are  suddenly  called 
away." 

"Never,"  said  the  young  man, 
firmly.  "Never  will  I  consent  to  your 
burdening  your  conscience  with  such  a 
lie.  I  will  explain  the  situation  to 
Honor Ah!  there  you  are,  dear- 
est," he  said  as  the  door  opened  and 
Honoria,  in  all  her  wealth  of  fresh 
young  beauty,  sailed  into  the  room 

"Bright  as  a  star  when  only  one  is  shining 
in  the  sky." 

"Well,  dear?"  She  paused  expect- 
antly. "Have  you  settled  things  with 
papa?" 

"N — not  quite,"  said  young  Mr. 
Munro,  dazzled  by  her  beauty.  "He 
— he  was  just  beginning  to  come  round 
when  you  entered." 

"I  wasn't  beginning  to  do  anything 
of  the  sort,"  declared  Mr.  Gellatly 
Grime.  "Enough  of  this  nonense.  I 
have  other  aims  for  Honoria." 


154 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


Honoria  came  softly  towards  him. 
"It's  no  use,  daddy;  it's  no  use." 

"What's  no  use,  Honoria?" 

"It's  no  use,  for  the  first  time  in 
your  life,  daddy,  denying  me  some- 
thing I  want." 

"But,  Honoria,  can't  you  see  you 
are  throwing  yourself  away?" 

"N— no,  daddy." 

"But  you  are.  Throwing  yourself 
away  on — that!"  He  pointed  to 
Munro,  who  laughed  at  being  called  a 
"that." 

The  girl  put  her  pretty  white  arms 
round  his  neck.  "Don't  be  disagree- 
able, daddy.  You're  a  bit  jealous 
because  I — I've  found  someone  to 
love." 

"I — I'm  not  jealous,  Honoria.  I — I'm 
hurt,   surprised,   annoyed,   disgusted." 

The  girl  drew  her  arms  away.  "He's 
very  good,"  she  said,  simply;  "and  I 
love  him.  He's  kept  his  dear  old 
mother  all  these  years  instead  of  saving 
money  for  himself;  and  I  love  him. 
He's  helped  his  brothers  and  sisters 
instead  of  helping  himself;  and  I  love 
him.  He's  thought  of  a  wonderful 
invention  which  will  help  himself;  and 
I  love  him  for  that,  too.  And  I  want 
you  to  love  him." 

Mr.  Gellatly  Grime  looked  at  the 
dark-haired,  handsome  young  feljow 
with  the  clear-cut,  determined  features 
and  bright  eyes.  "I  can't  by  any 
possibility  imagine  myself  loving  such 
a  young  jackanapes,"  he  declared 
with  unnecessary  emphasis. 

"Oh,  you'll  grow  used  to  me  in 
time,  sir,"  the  young  man  said,  cheer- 
fully. "  I'd  dodge  you  a  bit  until  you 
got  reconciled  to  the  inevitable." 

"  It  is  not  inevitable,  and  I  won't  be- 
come used  to  you.  Understand  me, 
sir,  my  decision  is  final." 

Honoria  moved  slowly  towards  the 
young  fellow.  This  time  her  hand 
went  into  his.  With  an  effort  she 
kept  back  the  tears  in  her  lovely  blue 
eyes.  "Of  course  I'm  a  sensible  girl, 
daddy,  and,  dearly  as  I  love  you,  I'm 
much  too  sensible  to  prefer  all  this  " — 
she  gave  a  sweep  of  her  pretty, 
jewelled  fingers  somewhat  contemp- 
tuously round  the  somewhat  over-gor- 


geous apartment — "  to  the  something 
which  comes  to  a  true-hearted  girl 
only  once  in  a  lifetime.  We — we 
didn't  know  it  was  coming;  but  it  has 
come.  We  can't  help  it,  daddy. 
Don't  you  try  to  help  it,  because  it 
will  only  mean  sorrow  for  us  all. 
Now,  do  be  sensible." 

"  I  will  not  be  sensible." 

"  Then  I  shall  have  to  go  to  aunt's," 
said  the  girl,  sorrowfully.  "  It's  a  sad 
thing,  daddy,  when  a  girl  goes  to  her 
husband  without  her  father's  blessing." 

"  It  is — for  the  girl,"  said  the  old 
man,  grimly,  "as  you  will  find  out  if 
you  persist  in  your  mad,  selfish  deter- 
minationto  abandon  me  in  my  old  age." 

"  But  it  is  you  who  want  to  abandon 
us.  Can't  you  be  sensible,  daddy, 
and  see  things  in  their  true  light  ?  Do 
you  think  I  could  respect  myself  if  I 
threw  away  this  great  gift  of  love  for 
money?" 

"  Money  is  power,"  said  the  old 
man,  obstinately. 

"So  is  love;  and  it  is  more  besides. 
It  is  goodness,  holy  living,  happiness," 
cried  the  girl,  passionately.  "It  is 
everything.  Poverty,  disgrace,  the 
world's  neglect — what  are  they  beside 


"This,"  said  the  young  man,  taking 
her  into  his  arms.  "  We're  sorry, 
sir.  Dashed  sorry!  Perhaps  I  wasn't 
quite  deferential  enough  in  breaking  it 
to  you,  but,  having  won  the  heart  of  a 
girl  like  Honoria,  I'd  despise  myself  if 
I  were  deferential  to  anybody.  We'll 
always  keep  a  place  for  you  at  our 
table,  although,  for  a  time,  it  won't  be 
as  good  a  table  as  this.  When  you 
get  tired  come  and  look  us  up.  And 
now,  Honoria,  dearest,  we'll  just  go 
into  the  hall  to  say  good-bye.  My 
mother  will  call  on  your  aunt  to- 
morrow, and  we'll  rush  things  through." 

The  old  man  turned  angrily  away. 
Presently  he  heard  the  door  bang, 
and  lifted  up  the  window.  A  blithe 
whistle  floated  back  as  the  young 
man  jumped  into  a  hansom  (what 
right  had  he  to  jump  into  hansoms  on 
an  income  of  £150  a  year!)  and  dis- 
appeared into  the  black  night.  The 
next  day  Honoria  went  to  her  aunt's. 


A  CHRISTMAS  PRESENT 


DD 


11 

A  year  later  Mr.  Gellatly  Grime  left 
his  office  in  Broad  Street,  and  paused 
angrily  by  the  poulterer's  opposite 
Liverpool  Street  Station,  for,  although 
the  bells  in  the  old  church  a  little 
lower  down  were  ringing  a  merry  wel- 
come to  Christmas  Eve,  and  everyone 
who  ran  up  against  him  in  the  dense 
fog  said  "  Beg  pardon,  merry  Christ- 
mas," he  was  ill  at  ease.  The  year 
had  told  on  him.  He  was  lonely — 
missed  Honoria  every  hour  of  the  day, 
but  was  too  proud  to  go  and  see  her 
and  make  it  up.  Honoria  did  not 
know  that  he  always  kissed  the  en- 
velope before  he  threw  her  unopened 
letters  into  the  fire.  And  when  he  had 
thrown  them  into  the  fire  he  blamed 
himself  severely. 

Every  shop  he  passed  filled  with 
Christmas  toys  and  merry  faces  made 
him  think  of  the  time  when  he  had 
taken  home  armfulsof  things  for  Hon- 
oria. And  Munro's  invention  had  suc- 
ceeded. There  was  no  doubt  of  that. 
If  only  it  had  failed,  he  could  have  for- 
given him;  but  the  cool,  impudent, 
clever  young  fellow  had  scored  at 
once.  He  remembered  now  that  Hon- 
oria's  letters  always  bore  the  west  cen- 
tral post-mark.  Calling  himself  a 
silly  old  idiot,  and  resolving  to  dismiss 
his  coachman  for  getting  lost  in  the 
fog,  Mr,  Gellatly  Grime  came  back  to 
the  corner  of  Liverpool  Street  and  got 
into  a  Holborn  'bus.  Not  a  cab  was 
to  be  seen. 

As  the  'bus  rumbled  slowly  along 
past  the  Mansion  House,  mothers  with 
families  of  merry  children,  all  excited 
about  Christmas — all  laden  with  Christ- 
mas presents — got  into  it.  One  rosy- 
faced  little  girl  told  her  mother,  in  con- 
fidence, what  she  had  bought  for  her. 
He  remembered  how  Honoria  had 
once  come  to  tell  him  what  she  had 
bought  for  his  Christmas  present,  but 
he  must  pretend  not  to  know  anything 
about  it  because  she  wanted  to  surprise 
him  on  Christmas  morning.  And  the 
usual  letter  from  Honoria  had  not 
reached  him  this  month.  She  always 
wrote  once  a  month.  Though  he 
would  not  read  the  letter,  it  was  a  sat- 


isfaction to  know  that  she  was  well. 
He  fancied  that  the  handwriting  of  the 
last  letter  had  been  a  little  shaky,  and 
began  to  worry  himself  anew.  Stay. 
Honoria's  aunt  lived  in  Russell  Square. 
He  disliked  Honoria's  aunt,  but  he 
would  go  and  humble  himself  to  her 
and  ask  about  Honoria.  Those  silly 
bells  with  their  message  of  peace,  for- 
giveness and  goodwill  to  all  on  earth 
were  responsible  for  this.  He  got  out 
of  the  'bus  opposite  the  Holborn  Res- 
taurant, and  drew  his  fur  coat  tightly 
round  him.  The  thing  had  stretched, 
or  he  had  got  thinner  during  the  last 
few  months.  He  made  up  his  mind 
rather  than  spend  a  lonely  Christmas 
that  he  would  invite  Honoria's  aunt  to 
dine  with  him.  She,  in  spite  of  her 
prejudices,  must  see  the  reasonableness 
of  his  position.  No  man  could  be 
bearded  in  his  own  house  by  a  jacka- 
napes like  Munro  without  resenting  it. 
If   the   fellow    would    only    come   and 

humble  himself.      If 

But  as  Mr.  Gellatly  Grime  reached 
the  top  of  Southampton  Street,  reso- 
lutely trying  to  shut  out  all  this  non- 
sense about  Christmas,  these  holly- 
decked  shops  and  happy  faces,  the  fog 
suddenly  descended  like  a  black  pall. 
Even  the  hum  of  traffic  in  Holborn 
resembled  the  droning  of  distant  bees. 
Much  better  turn  back,  go  to  his  club, 
dine  comfortably,  and  find  his  way 
home  to  bed.  He  turned  to  retrace 
his  steps,  then  thought  of  the  dismal 
to-morrow  without  Honoria.  No;  he 
could  not  do  it.  He  must  see  Mrs. 
Vipont,  Honoria's  aunt,  and  hear  all 
that  had  happened  to  the  child.  Per- 
haps, if  the  money  for  the  invention 
had  not  yet  come  in,  he  could  quietly 
send  Honoria  an  envelope  with  a  bank- 
note. There  was  some  excuse  for  a 
hard-headed  business  man  making  a 
fool  of  himself  at  Christmas  time.  If 
Honoria's  mother  had  lived,  she  would 
have  looked  after  the  girl  and  pre- 
vented her  from  making  a  fool  of  her- 
self.     If    Honoria's    mother Ah! 

had  Honoria's  mother  only  lived,  in- 
stead of  dying  and  leaving  Honoria  in 
her  place,  he  would  not  be  wandering 
about  in  the  fog — alone. 


156 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


As  he  entered  Russell  Square  and 
turned  to  the  left  he  heard  the  faint 
jingle  of  bells  on  a  horse,  and  knew 
that  a  vehicle  of  some  kind  was  slowly 
makingits  way  through  the  fog  towards 
him.  He  would  wait  for  the  driver 
and  be  driven  back  to  Holborn.  Then 
he  felt  with  his  stick  along  the  kerb 
and  halted  beneath  a  lamp-post.  Mrs. 
Vipont  lived  lower  down,  of  course. 
He  must  light  matches  and  look  at  the 
number  on  the  doors. 

Mr.  Gellatly  Grime  drew  his  coat 
around  him  again,  inwardly  resolving 
to  have  the  buttons  put  further  back. 
The  fog  got  into  his  lungs  and  eyes 
and  made  him  cough.  Why  couldn't 
people  keep  their  tinkly  pianos  quiet 
when  he  wanted  to  find  his  way  round 
the  square? 

A  gruff  voice  at  his  elbow  roused 
him  from  his  unhappy  meditations  and 
made  him  jump.  "Beg  pa'don,  guv- 
'nor,"  said  the  gruff  voice;  "ain't  got 
such  a  thing  as  a  match  about  yer?" 

"No,  of  course  I  haven't,"  said  Mr. 
Gellatly  Grime,  testily.  "I  don't  sell 
matches." 

"Oh,  yer  don't,  don't  yer!"  sneered 
the  gruff  voice.  "Maybe  yer  ain't 
got  such  a  thing  as  a  ticker  about  yer, 
neither?" 

"What  business  is  it  of  yours?" 

" 'And  over,"  said  the  gruff  voice. 
"  'And  over  yer  coin  and  yer  ticker,  or 
I'll  choke  yer  bloomin'  'ead  off!" 

Mr.  Gellatly  Grime  had  a  dim  vision 
of  a  hairy,  ruffianly-looking  face 
thrust  close  to  his,  and  made  a  desper- 
ate whack  at  it  with  his  stick.  The 
next  moment  he  received  a  crushing 
blow  on  his  hat  and,  wildly  crying  for 
help,  grappled  with  his  assailant. 

"Take  that!"  cried  a  cheery  voice. 
There  was  the  sound  of  a  crashing 
blow,  and,  with  a  horrible  oath,  down 
went  his  assailant  on  the  pavement. 
The  next  moment  somebody  helped 
him  to  his  feet.  "Lucky  I  got  out  of 
my  hansom  just  in  time,"  said  the 
cheery  voice.  "Now,  my  dear  sir, 
just  tuck  your  arm  in  mine  and  come 
into  my  house  and  be  brushed.  Most 
sensible  thing  " — he  felt  himself  lifted 
to  his  feet — "most  sensible  thing  you 


ever  did  in  your  life  to  wear  a  pot  hat 
in  this  fog.  That  knuckle-duster 
would  have  brained  you  if  you  hadn't. 
I  got  him  square  on  the  jaw  just  as  he 
hit  back  at  you." 

Mr.  Gellatly  Grime,  greatly  shaken^ 
clung  to  his  preserver.  In  his  con- 
fused state  he  had  a  vague  idea  that 
he  knew  the  voice. 

"W— what  about  that  ruflfian?  Shall 
we  go  for  the  police  ? "  he  asked. 
"You — you  have  saved  my  life." 

"  Police?  Oh,  no,"  said  the  young 
fellow.  "  Cabby,  here's  half  a  sov 
for  you.  If  you  see  a  bobby  about  in 
Holborn,  tell  him  to  come  round  for 
this  chap  and  gather  him  in." 

"Cabby"  took  the  half-sovereign 
and  drove  off  with  a  grin. 

The  hairy-faced  man  sat  up  on  the 
pavement  as  Mr.  Gellatly  Grime  and 
his  preserver  disappeared,  and  uttered 
strange,  ripe,  full-flavoured  oaths.  "A 
knockin'  a  cove  abaht  like  this  at 
Krissmus  time,"  he  said,  ruefully. 
"  S'elp  me,  if  I  don't  see  a  copper's  but- 
tons shinin'  under  every  lamp,"  and  he 
crawled  away. 

"  Now,"  said  the  cheery  voice, 
"just  stand  up  while  I  find  my  latch- 
key." 

"Hadn't  I  better  knock?"  asked 
Mr.  Gellatly  Grime. 

"Not  for  worlds,"  said  the  young 
fellow,  anxiously.  "Just  hold  the 
key  while  I  strike  a  match." 

He  struck  a  match,  and  Mr.  Gellatly 
Grime  saw  that  the  knocker  was  muf- 
fled in  a  white  glove.  The  next 
moment  the  door  opened  and  he  was 
in  a  large,  well-lighted  hall,  with  young 
Mr.  Munro  solicitously  removing  his 
overcoat. 

A  footman,  with  a  waistcoat  striped 
like  a  wasp,  brought  him  hot  brandy 
and  water.  When  Mr.  Gellatly  Grime 
had  emptied  the  tumbler  he  felt  better. 
Then  the  footman  brushed  him  care- 
fully. 

"  Better  now?  "  cried  Munro  anxi- 
ously. "Honoria  would  never  for- 
give me  if  I'd  let  that  fellow  polish  you 
off." 

"Hon Where     is     Honoria? 

She — she's  all  right?  "  asked  Mr.  Gel- 


WHOM  HE  LOVETH 


157 


latly  Grime,  anxiously  struggling  to 
his  feet. 

"  Right?  Right  as  a  trivet,"  said 
the  happy  young  fellow.  "  I  wish  you 
hadn't  that  bump  on  your  forehead. 
Come  along,  and  I'll  take  you  up  to 
Honoria  as  a  Christmas  present." 

They  went  up  softly-carpeted  stairs 
until  stopped  by  a  white-capped  nurse. 

"Can  Mrs.  Munro  see  us?"  asked 
the  young  fellow,  anxiously.  *'  Has 
she  had  a  good  sleep  this  afternoon, 
nurse?  " 

'•  She's  just  splendid,  sir,"  said  the 
nurse,  with  a  smile. 

"  I'd  better  %o  first  and  prepare 
Honoria  for  your  visit,"  said  young 
Mr.  Munro,  and  crept  into  the  room  on 
tiptoe. 

He  reappeared  in  a  minute  or  two. 
*•  It's  all  right.     You  can  come  in,"  he 


said,  gently,  and  somehow,  without 
knowing  it,  Mr.  Gellatly  Grime  found 
himself  kneeling  by  Honoria's  bed, 
the  tears  running  down  his  face  the 
while. 

"My  Christmas  present,"  said  young 
Mr.  Munro  to  Honoria,  in  subdued 
tones.      "  How's  Jelly  ?" 

Honoria's  pale  face  flushed  with  hap- 
piness. "  I  hoped  you  would  come, 
daddy.  I  hoped  you  would  come. 
Here's  a  Christmas  present  for  you, 
too."  She  put  a  small  pink  flannel 
bundle  into  his  arms.  "  We've  called 
him  'Jelly,'  after  you." 

"After  me?"  said  her  astonished 
father.      "After  me?" 

"Yes,"  explained  Munro.  "He's 
christened  '  Gellatly  Munro,'  but  for 
everyday  purposes  we've  brought  it 
down  to  Jelly." 


WHOM  HE  LOVETH 

By   BESSIE   KIRKPATRICK 


|OOD-NIGHT,Mrs.  Thomp- 
son, I  hope  you  will  have 
a  Merry  Xmas,"  and  Mr. 
Duncan  smiled  genially  as 
he  shook  hands  with  his 
stenographer. 

"Thank  you,  Mr.  Duncan.  Good- 
night," said  a  tall,  slight  young  wo- 
man as  she  resumed  her  place  at  the 
typewriter.  She  had  hoped  that  her 
employer  would  tell  her  to  leave  the 
rest  of  her  work  until  the  day  after 
Christmas,  but  he  only  said:  "  You 
will  see  that  everything  is  locked  up, 
will  you  not  ?"  as  he  left,  and  the 
typewriter  clicked  angrily  beneath  the 
quick  movements  of  her  impatient 
fingers. 

It  had  been  a  long,  hard  day,  and 
now  she  knew  Donald's  face  was  close 
to  the  window  of  their  little  room,  and 
Donald  was  wondering  why  "  muv- 
ver  "  didn't  come.  She  choked  back 
the  tears  that  unbidden  started  to  her 
eyes,  and   hurried  through  her  work. 


In  spite  of  all  the  eflforts  it  was  nearly 
six  o'clock  before  she  had  finished  her 
typewriting.  Then  she  had  nearly  a 
mile  and  a  half  to  walk — she  could 
not  afford  car-tickets — before  she 
reached  the  little  room  she  called 
home. 

It  was  just  seven  years  to-night 
since,  as  a  radiant  bride  of  eighteen, 
she  had  pledged  her  life  to  Donald 
Thompson.  For  three  years  there 
were  few  happier  homes  in  Toronto 
than  that  of  this  young  accountant 
and  his  girl  wife.  Then  Donald  fell 
a  victim  to  "  the  great  white  plague," 
consumption. 

On  Christmas  Eve  three  years  ago 
she  had  knelt  by  his  bedside,  and  he 
had  whispered,  "  Beth,  darling,  I 
have  had  the  most  beautiful  dream. 
I  have  seen  mother  on  the  other  shore, 
and  there  was  the  same  strange,  sweet 
radiance  on  her  face  as  when  she 
asked  us  to  sing  '  Lead  Kindly 
Light.'     I   think  she   must  have  been 


158 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


listening  to  the  angel  choirs  singing 
the  verse  we  never  finished." 

Beth  looked  at  the  pale,  loved  face 
on  the  pillow  and,  in  answer  to  the 
unspoken  entreaty  in  the  brown  eyes, 
said,  '*  Shall  I  sing  it  for  you  ?" 

Donald's  answer  was  a  slightly 
closer  grasp  of  the  white,  supple 
fingers,  and  in  a  voice  that  only  her 
great  love  kept  from  breaking,  Beth 
began  Newman's  immortal  prayer: 

"  Lead    kindly    Light    amid    the   encircling 
gloom, 

Lead  thou  me  on. 
The  night  is  dark  " — 

Poor  patient,  suffering  Beth!  Her 
voice  faltered,  but  the  clasp  of  Don- 
ald's hand  steadied  her,  and  her  rich 
contralto  tones  rang  out  clear,  sweet, 
and  full  of  passionate  resignation. 

"  But  now,  lead  Thou  me  on." 

Still  on  rolled  the  sweet  tones: 

"The  night  is  gone, 
And  with  the  morn  those  angel  faces  smile," 

and  on  Donald's  face  broke  "  the  light 
that  never  was  on  sea  or  shore." 
Bending  over,  Beth  caught  his  whis- 
pered "  Good-bye,  Sweetheart — little 
one — to  God — ,"  and  her  lips  clung  to 
his  in  that  last  kiss  that  seemed  al- 
most to  defy  death  and  separation. 

When  the  night  nurse  came  she 
found  them  there — Donald,  with  that 
heavenly  smile  still  on  lips  that  would 
speak  but  on  the  other  shore;  Beth, 
cold  and  still,  kneeling  by  the  bedside 
in  a  deathlike  swoon.  The  next  morn- 
ing Baby  Donald  was  born. 

Beth  found  it  necessary  to  sell  their 
pretty  little  home  in  order  to  pay  the 
doctor  bills  and  funeral  expenses,  and 
now  she  was  working  from  eight  in 
the  morning  until  five  o'clock  to  earn 
enough  to  support  Donald  and  her- 
self. Dear  little  crippled  Donald!  the 
joy  and  the  sorrow  of  her  life. 

"  I  shall  not  deceive  you,  Mrs. 
Thompson,"  Dr.  Eastman  had  said, 
looking  pityingly  at  the  drawn  lines  in 
the  mother's  white  face  raised  be- 
seechingly to  his,  "Your  child  will 
never  be  any  better  on  this  shore,  but, 
thank  God,  there  is  no  pain  or  sorrow 
over  yonder.     He  may  live  for  two  or 


three  years  more,  or  he  may  quietly 
slip  away  at  any  time." 

Outwardly  calm,  but  suffering  at 
heart  as  only  a  mother  can,  Mrs. 
Thompson  took  up  the  burden  of  life, 
striving  to  say,  "Thy  will  be  done. "^ 
She  went  to  board  with  Mrs.  O'Brien, 
a  motherly  old  Irish  woman  who,  in 
Beth's  more  prosperous  days,  had 
often  helped  her  with  the  heavier 
work.  Now  the  old  lady  was  toO' 
crippled  with  rheumatism  to  leave  her 
humble  cottage,  and  she  offered  to 
care  for  Donald  while  his  mother  was 
at  the  office. 

To-night,  as  she  entered  the  room, 
Beth's  smile  was  very  tender  as  Don- 
ald turned  from  the  window  with  a 
glad  cry  of  "  Muvver,  muvver,  I  fot 
you'd  never  turn." 

"  Was  mother's  little  man  lonely  P"" 
said  Beth,  as  she  gathered  the  frail 
form  in  her  tired  arms. 

"Just  at  the  last  a  wee  bit,"  with  a 
sigh.  "Will  Santa  C'aus  tum  to- 
night, muvver  ?" 

"Yes,  darling." 

"Tell  Donald  'bout  him,  p'ease," 
and  as  Mrs.  Thompson  went  about 
preparing  her  boy's  supper  she  told 
him  the  old,  old  Christmas  romances 
of  the  white,  frozen  North  and  the 
reindeer  team. 

After  supper,  when  she  was  sitting 
in  the  low  rocking-chair  by  the  fire, 
with  Donald  in  her  arms,  he  said:  "  I 
fink  we  won't  play  with  the  housey 
blocks  to-night.  I  fink  I'd  rawer  rest. 
Tell  Donald  'bout  the  star  and  the 
baby." 

As  she  told  him  in  the  simplest 
language  the  old,  sweet  story  of  the 
birth  of  the  Christ-Child,  the  mother 
noted  anxiously  how  very  frail  he 
looked,  and  how  much  darker  had 
grown  the  circles  under  his  eyes. 

"  Is  the  baby  still  at  Befelem  ?"  he 
questioned  eagerly  as  his  mother 
paused. 

"No,  dear,  He  is  up  in  Heaven 
now." 

"  Where  favver  is,"  he  said  eagerly. 
"  Donald  is  going  some  time,  isn't  he, 
muvver  ?" 

"Yes,    darling,   but    not  just  yet,"^ 


MANNA 


159 


said  Beth,  with  a  catch  in  her  voice. 

"  Will  Donald  have  wein-deers  to 
tate   him  ?"  persisted   the  baby  tones. 

•'God  will  send  his  angels  for  my 
darling." 

•'  Favver  is  an  angel  now,  isn't  he?" 
No  answer.      "Isn't  he,  muvver?" 

"Yes,  darling,"  with  a  sob. 

"What  makes  you  kwy  ?  Isn't  it 
nice  to  be  an  angel?  Wouldn't  you 
like  Donald  to  be  an  angel  ?" 

"  Yes,  dear,  some  time — but  not  yet. 
Oh!  v\o\.yetr 

"Would  '00  be  lonely,  muvver?" 

"  Mother  would  be  very  lonely  with- 
out her  little  man." 

"  Oo  tum  too." 

"  I  think  it  is  time  my  little  man 
was  in  bed,"  said  Beth  quickly. 
"  Santa  Claus  will  be  coming  soon, 
and  he  likes  to  find  little  boys  asleep. 
Say  '  Now  I  lay  me,*  "  and  Donald's 
childish  treble  repeated  after  her  the 
simple  words  of  this  old-fashioned  pray- 
er. Then  the  little  white- robed  form 
nestled  more  closely  in  her  arms,  and 
she  softly  sang  his  favourite  lullabys. 

Long  after  he  was  sleeping  she 
gently  rocked  and  sang,  almost  fear- 
ing to  move  her  aching  arms  lest  she 
waken  Donald,  and  he  should  have  a 
restless  night.  She  was  planning 
where  to  put  the  miniature  Christmas 
tree,  and  how  best  to  arrange  the  few 
presents  that  she  had  got,  when  the 
little  figure  in  her  arms  stirred,  and 
the  brown  eyes  opened  wide. 


"  Muvver,"  Donald  whispered  with 
a  winsome  smile.  Beth  bent  forward 
with  a  cold  fear  clutching  at  her  heart. 
The  fear  changed  to  despair.  From 
the  street  floated  in  the  "  Merry 
Christmas!"  of  some  cheerful  passer- 
by, but  to  Beth  it  seemed  the  knell  of 
all  joy,  and  the  softly  falling  snow, 
the  pall  of  all  happiness.  Donald  was 
with  his  father,  but  she  was  alone. 


In  one  of  the  largest  hospitals  in 
America  a  slender,  gray-eyed,  silvery- 
haired  matron  is  the  idol  alike  of  doc- 
tors, nurses  and  patients.  It  is  many 
years  now  since  Beth  saw  the  love- 
light  fade  away  in  her  husband's 
brown  eyes,  but  scores  of  suffering, 
soul-stained  patients  have  gone  away 
from  the  hospital  stronger  and  better 
men  and  women  because  they  had 
caught  a  glimpse  of  their  ideal  re- 
flected in  the  life  of  Nurse  Thomp- 
son. 

Many  are  the  years  since  she  heard 
her  baby  whisper  "  Muvver,"  but 
many  a  little  cripple  since  has  been 
soothed  and  made  happy  by  the 
tender,  skilful  ministrations  of  this 
gentle-toned  nurse.  Perfected  through 
suffering,  her  life  is  one  long,  sweet 
sacrifice  of  self  To  her  the  greatest 
joy  this  side  of  the  river  where  her 
loved  ones  await  her,  is  to  make  some 
life  brighter  and  happier;  and  so  her 
own  life  is  filled  with  peace. 


MANNA 

BY    RUSSELL    ELLIOT    MACNAGHTEN 

AITHAT  is  birth ?     The  wailing 
'  '       Of  an  infant's  cry  : 
Helpless,  unavailing — 
Man  is  born  to  die. 

What  is  life  ?     A  sorrow 

Passing  soon  away, 
When  death's  kindly  morrow 

Ends  the  bitter  day. 

What  is  death  ?     The  breaking 

Of  the  bonds  of  earth  : 
Haply,  an  awaking 

To  a  nobler  birth. 


WHITE  fATHER 
UNGAVA 


av  Clement    M.Ke>s 


E 


ARLY  in  January,  1903,  the 
following  item  appeared  in 
the  press  of  the  American 
cities,  being  apparently  an 
Associated  Press  dispatch 
from  Montreal: 

•'Montreal,  Jan.  3. — The  schooner 
Belle  Nancy,  arrived  at  Quebec  yester- 
day from  Rigolet,  Hamilton  Inlet, 
Labrador,  brought  dispatches  telling 
of  the  death  of  Father  Gaspard,  better 
known  as  the  White  Father  of  Un- 
gava.  He  died  at  Fort  Naskopie,  on 
Petbauliskopau  Lake,  in  December. 
He  was  brought  to  that  point  by  a 
party  of  South  River  Mission  Indians, 
who  found  him  wandering  on  the 
plains  between  Leaf  Lake  and  Seal 
Lake,  N.E.T.  He  had  left  the  former 
point  early  in  the  month  to  minister  to 
the  spiritual  needs  of  the  Seals,  the 
Indians  of  the  Seal  Lake  district.  His 
attendant  Indians  had  all  been  swept 
away  by  the  smallpox,  and  he  was  left 
alone  in  the  wilderness.  When  the 
Indians  found  him  he  was  dying.  His 
feet  and  hands  were  badly  frozen,  and 
Dr.  Clark,  the  Presbyterian  minister 
at  Fort  Naskopie,  found  it  impossible 
to  do  anything  for  him.  He  died  two 
days  after  reaching  the  mission. 

By  his  death  the  Roman  Catholic 
church  loses  one  of  its  pioneer  mis- 
sionaries in  the  great  wilderness. 
Father  Gaspard  has  laboured  for 
twenty  years  in  the  barren  land  known 
as  Ungava.  A  mystery  surrounds  his 
early  life  and  his  parentage.  He  was 
»  a  mysterious  being.  The  records  of 
the  Jesuit  College  at  Montreal  alone 
contain  the  true  story  of  his  early 
years,  and  could  possibly  throw  some 
light  upon  the  motives  that  led  him 
into  the  Great  Lone  Land." 


As  I  read  this  item  of  news  I  knew 
that  the  closing  sentence  was  not 
strictly  true.  The  records  of  the 
Jesuit  College  at  Montreal  may  con- 
tain the  true  story  of  the  motives  that 
actuated  P^re  Gaspard,  but  even  that 
is  doubtful.  I  heard  the  true  story 
from  one  of  the  actors  in  it.  It  was 
on  Christmas  night,  1878,  and  in  a  log 
cabin  in  the  woods  at  the  head  waters 
of  the  French  river  that  the  story  was 
told.  French  River  runs  into  the 
Georgian  Bay,  that  northern  extension 
of  Lake  Huron,  far  north  of  the  Amer- 
ican frontier.  It  comes  down,  by 
sleepy  stretch  and  tumbling  rapids, 
from  the  pine  lands  of  the  Height  of 
Land.  They  call  the  upper  waters  of 
it  Wahnipitae.  It  creeps  down  from 
the  great  land  now  called  Algonquin 
Park,  in  those  days  a  lonely  wilder- 
ness known  only  of  the  wild.  Near 
where  the  Wahnipitae  loses  its  Indian 
name  and  becomes  the  French,  our  hut 
lay  beneath  the  pines.  That  was 
where  I  met  P^re  Gaspard  and  heard 
his  story. 

In  those  days  he  was  the  new  chopper 
in  the  gang  of  lumbermen  ruled  by 
Jean  Ribaut.  He  was  a  loosely  built 
young  fellow,  tall,  broad-shouldered, 
dark  haired,  dark  eyed.  He  had  come 
out  of  the  forests  in  the  summer  time, 
no  one  knew  whence  or  why.  The 
men  of  the  deep  woods  are  not  inquis- 
itive. He  had  asked  Jean  for  a  job, 
and  Jean  had  taken  him  on,  having  a 
rare  eye  for  a  man  when  he  saw  one. 
By  instinct  he  was  a  natural  woods- 
man, but  he  lacked  strength  as  the 
term  is  known  in  the  timber  lands. 
His  great  height  and  broad  shoulders 
were  but  the  blind  to  hide  a  consti- 
tutional weakness  of  lung  and  throat 
that    robbed    him    of  persistency    and 


THE  WHITE  FATHER  OF  UXGAVA 


i6i 


left  him  faded  and  weak  after  long 
effort.  Old  Pierre  Laussan,  mere 
composite  of  tanned  leather  and 
gristle,  could  outlast  him  many  hours 
with  axe  or  hook  —  and  Pierre  was 
nearly  seventy  in  years. 

Jean  spared  the  quiet  recruit  all  he 
could.  He  tried  to  persuade  him  to 
give  up  the  axe  and  take  the  driving 
of  a  team  instead.  Gaspard  was  not 
to  be  coaxed.  His  heart  was  strong 
as  his  body  was  weak.  He  would 
come  into  camp  at  night  time,  weary, 
aching — too  tired  to  talk.  He  would 
"roil  in"  while  all  the  rest  sat  around 
the  open  grate  and  told  their  wonder- 
ful tales. 

The  woodmen  liked  him  well.  His 
was  always  the  ready  hand  and  the 
warm,  quick  heart  of  sympathy. 
When  little  Joli  Peticourt  was  lost  in 
the  deep  woods  it  was  Gaspard  that 
led  the  weary,  aimless  hunt  for  him 
through  trackless  miles  on  miles  of 
forest.  It  was  Gaspard  that  found 
him,  too,  finally,  pinned  beneath  a 
fallen  tree,  half-starved,  more  than 
half-frozen.  It  was  Gaspard  that 
tried  to  nurse  him  back  to  life,  sitting 
up  with  him  all  the  night,  patient  as 
Joan  herself,  la  belle  auge  de  Jean, 
"Jean's  beautiful  angel,"  the  little 
wile  of  Jean  Ribaut.  And  it  was 
Gaspard  that  sang  over  the  snowy 
grave  where  finally  they  laid  him — 
sang  so  that  the  careless  hearts  of  the 
men  of  the  woods  melted,  and  their 
tears  fell  over  the  grave  of  little  Joli 
Peticourt.  And  that  hour,  men  say 
who  know,  was  the  beginning  of  Pere 
Gaspard,  the  missionary  of  the  Great 
White  North.     But  the  tale  halts. 

On  the  morning  of  this  Christmas 
day  Gaspard  and  Rene  Jollisson  had 
been  picked  by  lot  to  see  to  the  sharp- 
ening of  the  axes.  It  was  a  holiday 
job.  They  divided  the  work  and  took 
it  by  spells.  One  time  Gaspard  held 
the  axe  and  Rene  turned  the  stone. 
Then  Rene  held  the  axe  and  Gaspard 
turned  the  stone.  Meantime  I  sat  on 
a  log  near  by  and  communed  with  old 
Pierre,  who  was  engaged  in  the  other 
holiday  labour  of  pulling  an  oily  rag 
up  and  down  through  the  barrel  of  his 

5 


shotgun,  an  ancient  weapon  but  well 
beloved. 

I  saw  a  little  trinket  fall  from  the 
breast  of  Gaspard  as  he  turned  the 
stone.  He  had  grown  hot,  and  had 
unbuttoned  the  throat  of  his  blue 
flannel  shirt.  The  trinket  had  worked 
its  way  out.  It  swung  back  and  forth 
as  he  swayed  with  the  turning  of  the 
wheel.  I  could  see  that  it  looked  like 
a  locket  and  that  it  appeared  to  be 
golden.  Pierre  saw  it,  too,  as  it  fell. 
He  peered  very  hard  at  it.  Then  he 
got  up  and  went  over  to  Gaspard. 

"You  will  catch  this  chain  on  the 
wheel,  maybe,  and  break  it,  perhaps, 
Gaspard.  Better  put  it  back.  It  is  a 
pretty  charm." 

He  had  caught  the  locket  as  it 
swung,  and  held  it  in  his  hand  as  he 
spoke.  Gaspard  took  the  charm  and 
put  it  back,  buttoning  his  shirt  over  it. 
Pierre  came  back  to  me  and  the  gun. 

"A  charm,  I  suppose,  or  a  token — 
a  locket,  wasn't  it  ?"  I  queried  idly. 

"  A'o/i  —  non —  I  shall  sometime, 
maybe,  tell  you!"  said   Pierre,  shortly. 

At  that  I  was  doubly  surprised,  first 
at  the  fact  that  he  spoke  only  about 
six  words,  for  he  generally  talked  an 
hour  in  answering  one  question;  and 
second  at  the  fact  that  he  spoke  with  a 
very  decided  French  accent,  for  gener- 
ally his  English  was  beyond  the  most 
carping  of  criticism.  I  looked  at  him, 
but  he  seemed  absorbed  in  his  gun.  I 
wandered  away  to  Jean  and  Joan,  who 
were  getting  ready  for  a  tramp  after 
wild  turkeys. 

It  was  late  that  night  that  Pierre 
told  the  story  that  I  am  going  to  try 
to  tell  in  his  own  words.  It  was  after 
the  late  Christmas  dinner,  when  all  the 
men  were  gathered  around  the  pine 
knot  fire  on  the  hearth,  smoking  their 
short  black  pipes,  telling  their  tales. 
It  is  at  just  that  hour  that  one  comes 
near  the  heart  of  things  that  really  are. 

Pierre  was  a  famous  raconteur  even 
in  that  wide,  wild  and  poetic  land.  He 
was  never  known  to  boast  or  lie.  Men 
listened  to  his  stories,  went  away  and 
told  them  to  their  comrades  in  another 
camp  as  gospel — the  Gospel  of  the 
Great  White  North  as  told  by  Pierre 


l62 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


Laussan.  His  range  of  time  ran  back 
into  the  years  when  North  Ontario 
was  a  wilderness  and  South  Ontario  a 
newly  opened  farmland.  He  had  tra- 
versed Labrador,  being,  it  is  said,  the 
first  white  man  that  ever  saw  with  his 
own  eyes  the  White  Veil  falls.  With 
Massan,  nephew  of  the  great  Tecum- 
seh,  he  had  tried  all  fortunes  of  the 
woods  and  plains.  As  I  have  said,  he 
spoke  the  English  tongue  perfectly, 
though  I  was  to  discover  that  in  the 
interest  of  his  tale  he  would  lapse  into 
quaint  idiom  of  the  French  and  pic- 
turesque, extravagant  phrases  of  the 
Indian. 

"  It  was  in  the  winter  of  '60,"  he 
began,  "that  we  of  the  fur  brigade 
heard  a  tale  that  filled  our  hearts 
with  sadness.  In  those  days  I  was  of 
the  H.B.C.,  trading  for  pelts  away  up 
into  Keewatin,  beyond  the  rivers  that 
run  into  the  Hudson's  Bay.  Late  in 
the  fall  I  and  Massan  came  down  by 
Montreal,  bringing  a  message  of  Alec 
Hamilton,  him  that  was  the  factor  at 
Moose  Fort,  to  the  governor  at  Mon- 
treal. When  we  came  into  Montreal 
we  heard  this  talk.  Pt^re  Ramon,  they 
said,  was  lost  in  Labrador.  Now,  not 
a  man  of  all  but  loved  P^re  Ramon. 
Out  on  the  long  trail  with  us,  down  in 
the  huts  on  the  shores  with  our 
women,  comforting  them  in  their 
trouble — and  that,  God  knows,  was 
often;  nursing  our  babes  when  the 
spotted  sickness  swept  them  away  in 
the  summer  time — he  lived  with  our 
hearts — he  was  part  of  us.  So  when 
the  governor  told  us  that  P^re  Ramon 
was  lost  we  grieved,  Massan  and  me, 
and  were  bitter,  maybe,  thinking  God 
is  not  just.  P6re  Ramon  had  gone 
into  the  north  in  the  summer,  hearing 
the  scattered  Algonquins  crying  aloud 
in  their  sickness — for  it  came  upon  the 
north  that  summer — and  he  had  prom- 
ised he  would  return  by  November. 
Now  it  is  late  December.  The  iron 
cliffs  of  the  Laurentides  they  crack  in  the 
great  frost,  and  the  falls  of  the  rivers 
they  freeze  up  and  stand  like  a  white 
hill  all  winter. 

"Then  that  Massan,  the  Indian,  he 
came  to  me,  mourning  like  a  dog  that 


loses  his  master.  That  Massan — ah, 
Massan  he  knew  how  it  was  to  love 
and  to  lose.  He  loved  Pere  Ramon. 
You  know  how  Massan  was,  you  men — 
Sandy,  Jean,  Louis — you  know  how 
he  could  love  a  man.  Joan  here,  she 
know  how  Massan  loved  her  father. 
Devil  Murphy,  and  how,  at  the  last, 
he  give  away  his  life  for  him.  It  was 
just  so  he  loved  Pere  Ramon. 

"  '  Pierre,'  he  say,  '  Pere  Ramon  he 
is  los'  in  Labrador,  in  the  white  lan's. 
I  go  an'  fin'  heem.  You  go  with  me 
an'  maybe  we  fin'  heem,  maybe  no. 
The  governor  he  maybe  let  us  go, 
maybe  no.  Alec  he  will  not  be  anger 
if  we  come  not  back,  for  he  will  say 
he  love  P6re  Ramon,  too,  an'  he's 
heart  it  be  sore  when  he  hear.  I  can 
res'  here  not  at  all.  Pure  Ramon  he 
out  there — out  there!' 

*'  Massan  he  sweep  his  arm  around 
the  great  big  world.  '  Out  there,'  he 
says.  Then  he  go  away  so  I  cannot 
see  how  he  grieve  for  P^re  Ramon. 
So,  after  a  while,  we  go  to  the  gov- 
ernor, me  and  Massan,  and  we  tell 
him  we  are  going  out  into  Labrador 
for  look  for  Pere  Ramon 

"  '  But  you  are  crazy,  you  two,'  say 
the  governor,  blinking  his  eyes.  *  No 
man  can  live  up  there  in  the  winter — 
you  know  that,  Pierre.  You  would 
just  throw  yourselves  away.  I  can't 
let  you  go.  You  belong  to  the  H. B.C., 
and  I  am  its  governor.  You  can't  go. 
That's  final.' 

"  *  But,  sir,'  says  I,  'this  Massan, 
this  Indian,  he  goes  all  the  day  long 
with  his  head  bowed  down  and  his 
eyes  running  water.  His  ban's  and 
his  face  they  grow  thin  like  the  alder 
stems  in  the  winter.  And  me — I  grieve, 
too — for  you  know  how  P6re  Ramon 
he  come  through  the  great  blizzard 
las'  winter  to  anoint  my  Marie  as  she 
die.  So  we  must  go — we  mus' — we 
shall  go!' 

"An'  the  governor,  he  good  man, 
he  let  us  go  at  the  last.  He  know  we 
go  anyway,  I  suppose.  We  start  the 
nex'  day.  You  mus'  know  that  the 
way  was  mos'  long,  an'  we  go  away 
north,  not  knowing  where  we  go 
exact.     We  travel  by  the  north  many 


"Pierre  walked  around  the  circle  to  Gaspard" 


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THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


weeks — it  is  so  many  I  forget  at  the 
time  how  many  it  is.  Massan — you 
know,  my  frien's,  how  Massan  was 
quiet — and  it  is  so  col' — so  col' — 
br-r-r-r-r-r !" 

Pierre  shivered.  His  audience  shiv- 
ered with  him.  I  know  not  whether 
it  was  done  on  purpose,  but  I  do  know 
that  Pierre  cast  a  quick  eye  over  the 
crowd  as  he  shivered,  and  smiled 
quietly  as  he  saw  the  sympathetic 
tremor  pass  •  over  the  crowd.  Jean 
Ribaut  got  up  and  piled  three  big 
logs  on  the  blaze.  Pierre  went  on 
with  his  story.  From  this  point  on  his 
tenses,  final  consonants,  and  English 
grammar  quickly  disappeared.  He 
talked  a  language  very  near  the  In- 
dian-French patois  of  the  Upper 
Saguenay  in  our  day,  a  diction  col- 
oured and  relieved  with  idiom  and 
comparison;  a  construction  full  of  odd 
forms,  rhythmical,  almost  blank  verse 
at  times;  a  tone  level,  monotonous, 
yet  very  rich  and  deep,  and  full  of  weird 
suggestion. 

"An' so  we  go  on.  The  world  it 
grow  col'  an'  hard  an'  bitter,  yet  we  go 
on.  In  a  week  time  we  come  by  the 
Lac  du  Monovan,  where  is  set  the 
shrine  of  Ste.  Auguste.  A  night  an' 
a  day  we  stay  there  in  the  pines,  an' 
listen"  at  night  to  the  gray  wolves  that 
howl  in  the  great  timber.  My  heart  it 
grow  heavy  an'  col'  as  we  work  away 
north,  north  over  the  foothills  of  the 
Laurentides.  You  know  what  it  is, 
my  frien's.  The  worl'  she  get  so  big 
an'  so  col'  an'  so  rough  that  we  know 
we  never  shall  fin'  P^re  Ramon.  That 
is  it  to  be  discourage.  But  Massan  he 
bring  me  the  heart  back  in  my  breas'. 
All  the  day  he  slide  along  the  snow 
among  the  little  mountains.  He  look 
in  every  corner  for  smoke  or  sign  of  a 
man,  an'  he  listen  at  night  for  the 
barking  of  dogs.  Those  nights  we  sit 
beside  the  fire  in  the  spruces — for  very 
soon  we  get  beyond  the  pinelan's — an' 
we  would  smoke  our  pipes — so  silent 
like  death.  Then  I  would  lie  down  an' 
sleep,  while  Massan  he  watch  the  fire 
for  scare  the  wolves  away.  At  las'*, 
when  the  time  come,  he  would  wake 
me — an'  I  would   watch   the  fire  while 


he  sleep.      In   the  morning  we  ^o  on 
an'  on,  walking  beside  the  dogs. 

"  At  the  Lac  Chibioguma,  where  the 
waters  split  at  the  foot  of  the  Laur- 
entides, we  fin'  Algonquins.  Twenty 
days  we  spend  passing  the  rocky  walls 
where  men  lie  down  an'  die  because 
their  hope  it  die.  The  Algonquins 
they  say  they  know  Pere  Ramon.  He 
leave  them  in  October  for  go  to  Great 
Whale  River  for  try  an'  save  a  white 
man  from  the  Seals,  the  tribes  of  the 
plains  of  ice. 

"  Mes  amis^  that  was  a  sorry  day  for 
Massan  an'  for  me,  when  we  hear  that 
news.  Massan  he's  head  it  fall  down 
like  the  eagle's  when  he  hear  the  rifle 
speak.  The  fires  in  the  lodges  of  the 
Seals  it  is  that  make  he's  let'  han' 
white  an'  scarred.  You  know  it — you 
that  know  Massan  in  ol'  time.  That 
night,  as  I  sleep  in  the  hut  of  the  Al- 
gonquin chief  Massan  he  come  by  me. 

"'To-morrow  we  go  on,'  he  say, 
'  even  to  the  sea  where  the  ice  moun- 
tains they  tumble  against  the  shore. 
Pere  Ramon,  he  maybe  need  us  if  he 
be  with  the  Seals.  Massan,  he  not 
afraid. ' 

"  But  I,  my  frien's,  I  see  Massan 
shake  as  he  say  he  not  afraid,  an'  I 
know  that  he  thinks  of  the  fire  in  the 
lodge  of  the  Seals — an'  I  wonder  me 
whether  he  be  better  man  that  tremble 
and  yet  go  on,  or  that  go  on  fearing 
not. 

*'  In  the  morning  when  I  tell  the 
Algonquins  we  go  on  they  wonder. 
The  chief  he  say  :  *  Death  he  breathe 
across  the  plain.  He  turn  the  rivers 
into  ice.  He  make  the  air  go  blue  and 
cracklin'  like  the  cedar  log  in  the  fire. 
He  stifi'en  the  heart  so  that  no  life  is 
in  him.  Better  wait  here  till  the  White 
Death  pass,  an'  life  she  come  again.' 

"  But  we  go  on.  A  month  we  travel 
north,  more  than  two  hundred  leagues 
across  the  snow.  Pretty  soon  the 
woods  they  grow  thin,  an'  then  they 
are  no  more,  an'  nothing  is  in  the  worl 
but  snow  an'  snow  an'  snow.  It  is 
like  the  palm  of  your  han',  my  frien's, 
so  level,  so  smooth.  No  life  seem  to 
be  in  the  worl'  but  Massan  an'  me  an' 
the  dogs.      Soon  the  dogs  they  die,  one 


THE  WHITE  FATHER  OF  UXGAVA 


165 


"Pierre  shivered;   his  audieiK-e   shivered   with   hii 


by  one,  an'  we  pull  the  sled  ourselves. 
The  wolves  they  follow  us  all  that 
month  for  dig  up  the  dogs  we  bury  in 
the  snow  at  the  place  we  stop.  The 
heart  of  Massan  it  is  very  sore  when 
ol'  Jacques,  the  leader,  he  die.  But  it 
all  pass  by.  Five  rivers  we  leave  be- 
hin',  rivers  of  ice  with  the  snow  many 
yards  deep  over  them,  like  they  been 
frozen  very  long  time. 

"One  time,  when  we  stop  at  night 
an'  buir  fire  with  wood  we  bring  from 
the  las'  river — for  always  the  birch  an' 
tamarack  she  grow  along  the  river 
bank — Massan  he  say  to  me  :  '  In  two 
day  we  see  Great  Whale  River  an'  the 


Seals.  The  Seals  they  no  love  for 
Massan.  Maybe  I  say  good-bye  to 
you,  Pierre.' 

"  Well,  ma  frien's,  that  give  me  no 
joy.  I  think  I  near  lose  heart  an  say 
*  Let  us  go  back.'  But  Massan,  he 
saygoon.  Sowegoon.  Ithalfday- 
light  for  near  all  de  time  that  time. 
One  day  de  win'  she  sweep  over  us,  an' 
we  must  bury  ourselves  in  de  snow  for 
live  at  all.  It  was  like  you  throw  peb- 
bles in  de  face.  No  man  can  stan' 
against  it.  All  the  night  the  red  an' 
purple  flame  she  dance  in  de  sky,  like 
you  see  great  bush  fire  along  the 
Height  o'  Lan',  so  that   the  night  she 


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bright  as  the  day.  We  stop  only  when 
we   mus',  for  we  are  too  tire  for  go  on. 

"  It  is  at  de  Lac  Apecac  dat  at  de 
las'  we  fin'  heem,  an'  ah,  cest  terrible, 
ines  amis,  de  way  what  we  fin'  heem! 
We  lie,  Massan  an'  me,  close  together 
at  de  leetle  fire.  Sudden  we  hear  de 
wolves  come  howlin'  down  de  lac. 
We  ron  out  an'  look  across  de  snow. 
De  snow  she  is  all  purple  an'  blue  an' 
red  for  de  light  dat  fall  on  it  from  de 
north.  In  dat  light  we  see  a  man  dat 
ron,  an'  behin'  heem,  like  de  shadow  on 
de  snow,  a  long  gray  line  dat  follow 
heem,  an'  get  closer  an'  closer.  Dat 
is  de  wolves.  Dey  not  eighty  paces 
behin'  heem.  Massan  he  buckle  on 
hees  snowshoes  like  he  is  mad,  so 
quick,  an'  go  ron  across  de  lac.  Me, 
too,  I  go  quick.  De  man  he  see  us 
ron,  but  we  in  de  shadow  an'  he  tink 
us  wolves  that  ron  for  head  heem  off. 
He  drop  down  an'  put  hees  ban's  over 
hees  eyes  an'  scream.  It  is  mos' 
fearful  t'ing,  Massan  he  reach  de 
man,  an'  drop  on  hees  knee,  an'  shoot 
an'  keel  de  big  gray  wolf  dat  lead  de 
pack.  Me,  too,  I  keel  wan.  Dey  all 
stop  ron,  howl  much,  den  turn  an' 
sneak  away  in  de  shore.  De  great 
gray  wolf  he  beeg  coward. 

"  We  carry  de  man  to  de  fire,  de 
man  we  come  so  far  for  fin'.  Pore 
Ramon.  I  hope  dat  you  never  will 
see  de  man  like  so.  He  lie  beside  de 
fire  like  he  is  dead,  quiet,  in  hees  black 
robe,  an'  we  two  pray  dat  he  will  die 
an'  never  wake  again.  For  we  know 
dat  he  is  a  dead  man,  dat  Death  he 
breathe  on  him  in  de  plain  an'  stiffen 
hees  heart,  an'  we  pray  dat  he  will 
suflfer  no  more.  But  God — ah,  God  is 
hard,  ma  frien's,  sometime.  Sudden, 
in  de  red  and  purple  light  he  start  up, 
he  call  out: 

*'  '  Gaspard!     Gaspard!' 

"  Den  we  know  he  is  mad,  what  you 
call  crazee,  wi'  de  col'  an'  de  red  eyes 
of  de  wolves.  I  speak  to  heem  an' 
Massan  he  stan'  over  heem,  an'  call  to 
heem,  but  he  know  us  not  at  all.  He 
forget  Pierre  Laussan  an'  dat  Massan 
what  he  love.  He  try  for  stan',  but 
he  only  get  to  he's  knees.  He  raise 
he's  ban's  above  he's  head,  he's  two 


black  ban's.  Ah,  dat  is  pitiable,  dem 
two  sad  ban's,  dat  face — black  like  de 
belt,  dried  up,  wrinkled  like  de  black 
birch  in  de  winter  time,  when  she  die. 
Two  fingers  dey  are  not  dere.  Den 
he  speak  like  he  dream,  like  he  choke, 
wheezy — ah,  de  voice  dat  we  love  it  is 
die!  We  know  he's  lungs  dey  is  froze 
an'  he  die.  He  hoi' he's  gold  cross  up 
by  de  chain  dat  hang  on  he's  wris'. 

"  'Gaspard  —  Gaspard — my  son—  I 
have  search — for  you — all  my  life  1 
have  search  for  you — RentSe — God  is 
not  good — I  die  an'  I  fin'  you  not  -  I 
have  sin — I  have  sin — de  great  sin — 
an'  God  he  punish  —  mca  culpa — 
Dotiiine — 7ne(i  maxima  culpa.'' 

"  He  stop  an'  he  turn  he's  poor 
blacken'  face  to  de  fires  of  de  Nord — 
an*  we  see  dat  de  lids  of  he's  eyes  dey 
are  froze,  so  dat  dey  cannot  close.  So, 
kneeling,  he  die  an'  he  s  eyes  dey  are 
open. 

*'  Den  Massan  he  fall  down  an'  he 
lie  dere  with  he's  face  on  de  knees  of 
P^re  Ramon.  I  t'ink  maybe  dat  I  be 
lef  alone  on  de  plains.  But  dat 
Massan  he  get  up  an'  he  say:  '  P^re 
Ramon  he  is  dead.  Pierre  he  still 
live.  Massan  he  help  Pierre.  Den 
Massan  he  go  home  to  Pere  Ramon — 
maybe  no.  Dat  son  of  de  P6re  Ramon 
— but  Pere  Ramon  he  have  no  son — 
maybe  so.      Massan  he  see.' 

•'  We  bury  Pere  Ramon  deep  in  de 
snow.  I  take  de  cross  an'  de  locket 
dat  is  in  he's  breas',  t'inking  maybe  I 
give  dem  to  de  governor  at  Montreal. 
Den  we  start  home.  We  never  know 
where  Pere  Ramon  he  been.  Maybe 
he  with  de  Seals,  maybe  no.  We 
never  know  how  he  happen  to  be  ron 
down  de  Lac  Petbauliskopau  when  he 
near  dead,  an'  how  he  happen  be 
cha«;e  where  is  Massan  an'  me.  I 
t'ink  maybe  it  be  for  purpose.  I  t'ink 
maybe  God  he  know." 

Pierre  stopped  for  at  least  three 
minutes  and    slowly    filled    his    pipe. 

There  was  hardly  a  move  in  the 
crowd.  When  he  resumed  the  story 
he  dropped  half  his  pigeon  tongue. 
Either  the  thrill  of  the  memory  of 
those  moments  had  carried  him  back 
years  in  his  civilisation  or  Pierre  was 


•'Gaspard — my  son — all  my  life   I   have  search  for  you  I' 
•67 


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THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


the  most  consummate  actor  in  the 
world.  I  confess  a  belief  that  there 
was  no  acting^. 

"  It  take  us  two  months  to  get  back 
by  Montreal.  The  Spring  is  come  on 
when  we  see  the  city.  We  go  straight 
to  the  governor  an'  I  tell  him  of  P^re 
Ramon.  He  whistle  when  I  tell  him 
of  the  son  of  Pere  Ramon.  He  ask 
for  the  locket.  When  he  open  it  he 
Vhistle  again.  There  is  a  paper  in  it, 
fold'  up  small.  He  read  that  quiet, 
an'  then  he  say:  '  This  tells  me  there 
is  papers  at  the  house  of  P^re  Ramon 
that  will  tell  us  all  about  it.  Let  us 
go  there.' 

"So  we  go  to  the  house,  the  gov- 
ernor, Massan,  an'  me,  all  quiet  like 
funeral.  The  governor  he  read  out  of 
the  paper  in  the  locket  where  we  shall 
fin'  the  papers.  So  we  fin'  them.  The 
governor  look  over  them  an'  say  they 
are  deeds  to  a  great  Ian'  in  Brittany. 
At  las'  he  come  to  one  paper  in  the 
writing  of  Pere  Ramon. 

"That  paper  it  tell  a  wonderful 
story.  It  tell  how  Pere  Ramon  he  is 
the  Seigneur  de  Farcy,  a  great  man, 
an'  how  he  love  Renee  Lassar,  but 
may  not  marry  her  because  his  father 
say  he  mus'  marry  another,  a  great 
lady.  But  they  love,  an'  they  sin,  an' 
when  Ren^e  her  trouble  it  come,  Pere 
Ramon  he  break  forth  an'  he  swear  he 
will  not  marry  at  all  unless  he  marry 
Ren^e.  Then  they  marry,  quiet.  Only 
the  old  Seigneur  know  they  is  mar- 
ried, for  P6re  Ramon  tell  him.  The 
boy  is  born.  When  he  is  five  years 
ol'  he  is  stole.  P^re  Ramon  he  hunt 
for  him.  The  ol'  Seigneur  hunt,  too, 
but    they  never  fin'   the    boy.      Ren6e 


she  die  of  grief.  Later  the  ol'  Seig- 
neur die,  too,  but  before  that  he  tell 
P6re  Ramon  he  steal  the  boy  an'  send 
him  to  Canada.  The  Pere  give  up  the 
Seigneury  an'  go  away,  no  one  know 
where. 

'*  He  come  out  to  Canada.  He 
take  counsel  with  Pere  Ramordaine  at 
Montreal,  and  P6re  Ramordaine  tell 
him  to  be  missionary.  He  cannot  be 
full  priest.  All  the  time  he  keep  the 
marriage  papers  an'  the  deeds  so  the 
boy  he  will  be  Seigneur  if  he  ever  is 
foun'.  But  P^re  Ramon  die  as  I  tell 
you." 

Pierre  paused  to  pull  out  from  his 
breast  a  locket  of  gold  on  a  chain. 

"The  boy  he  have  a  locket  like 
this.  I  tell  you  this  story  because  I 
think  that  I  fin'  him!" 

The  men  jumped  to  their  feet. 
Pierre  walked  around  the  circle  to 
Gaspard.  The  man  had  turned  pale 
as  Pierre  pulled  the  locket  out,  and 
had  started,  but  the  crowd  was  not 
watching  him. 

"  I  see  the  locket  when  it  fall  from 
your  breas'  this  morning,  an'  I  think 
it  maybe  the  same  like  this!"  said 
Pierre. 

The  after-story  concerning  the 
White  Father  of  Ungava  is,  perhaps, 
written  only  in  the  records  of  the 
Jesuits  at  Montreal.  Of  it  I  know 
nothing.  I  did  not  know  until  I  read 
it  in  the  papers  that  Gaspard  had 
never  taken  up  his  Seigneury.  He 
gave  his  life  to  the  God  that  refused 
his  father  comfort  and,  by  a  strange 
coincidence,  died  almost  in  the  same 
spot  where  his  father  died,  and  in  the 
same  way. 


TAC  riGAT 


■■^>^:-      BY  A.G.BRADLEY 

A   HISTORY   IN    TWELVE 
INSTALMENTS    ^^     ^     ^ 


CHAPTER  XII— CHRISTMAS  SEASON  OF  1759  IN  QUEBEC— FRENCH,  UNDER 
L^VIS,  RETURN  AND  ATTACK  THE  CITY  —  BATTLE  OF  ST.  FOY  — 
QUEBEC  RELIEVED  BY  BRITISH  SHIPS— FRENCH  FORCES  RETIRE  ON 
MONTREAL. 


I'RRAY,  when  he  sat  down 
with  his  small  army  to  face 
the  fierce  Canadian  winter 
amid  the  ruins  of  Quebec, 
had  no  light  task  before 
him.  He  had  the  certain  prospect  of 
seven  months'  complete  isolation  from 
everything  but  a  vigilant  and  hardy 
enemy  smarting  under  the  bitterness 
of  defeat.  But  he  was  a  good  soldier, 
a  son  of  Lord  Elibank,  young  and 
tough,  brave  and  generous,  and  better 
fitted  for  the  work  in  hand  than  Towns- 
hend,  who  gave  it  over  to  him  and 
returned  to  England,  we  may  well  be- 
lieve without  a  pang.  Murray  was 
left  with  a  little  over  7,000  men;  but 
his  strength  was  regulated  rather  by 
the  number  he  could  feed  than  the 
number  he  could  muster.  The  sur- 
rounding country  had  been  swept 
nearly  bare  by  the  needs  of  Montcalm's 
army,  and  Murray  had  to  depend 
almost  wholly  on  his  own  stock  of 
provisions  and  the  little  that  was  found 
in  Quebec.  No  relief  of  any  kind  from 
any  quarter  could  reach  him  until  May. 
Such  of  the  French  garrisoh  as  were 

6-169 


prisoners  of  war  had  been  sent  to 
England  with  the  fleet,  while  all  the 
militiamen  who  chose  to  give  up  their 
arms  and  swear  allegiance  to  King 
George  were  allowed  to  return  to  their 
homes.  The  civil  population  of  the 
city  had  been  scattered  over  the  coun- 
try by  siege.  There  was  little  tempta- 
tion or,  indeed,  encouragement  for 
those  who  could  avoid  it  to  return 
now,  and  Murray  had,  perhaps,  some 
3,000  citizens,  all  told,  upon  his  hands. 
During  the  moderate  weather  of  Oc- 
tober and  November  there  was  an 
enormous  amount  of  work  to  be  done. 
There  was  no  money  and  no  winter 
clothing,  thanks  to  Lord  Barrington, 
nor  could  either  be  now  obtained. 
Murray  was  compelled  to  borrow 
money  from  the  oflScers  and  men  of  the 
army,  who  responded  generously; 
Eraser's  Highlanders,  we  are  told, 
being  enabled  by  their  '*  sobriety  and 
frugality  "  to  be  especially  forward  in 
this  matter.  Quarters  had  to  be  rigged 
up  out  of  the  shattered  houses, 
churches  and  convents,  in  prepara- 
tion  for    a    fiercer    winter    than   even 


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THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


those  troops,  inured  to  American  win- 
ters, had  ever  yet  faced,  while  the  offi- 
cers put  up  with  such  accommodation 
as  they  could  find.  Knox  tells  us  that 
he  was  fortunate  in  getting  part  of  a 
stable  where,  with  the  help  of  a  Cana- 
dian stove — even  then  a  universal 
necessity — he  contrived  to  keep  him- 
self warm.  He  was  detailed  on  duty 
for  a  time  to  the  general  hospital  in  the 
suburbs,  where  French  and  English 
wounded  were  lying  in  great  numbers 
under  the  charge  of  the  nuns  of  the 
Augustine  order.  He  writes  with  rap- 
ture of  this  fine  building  and  waxes 
enthusiastic  on  the  perfect  order  and 
cleanliness  he  found  there,  and  the 
devotion  of  the  Sisters,  who  were  as 
untiring  in  their  care  of  their  late  foes 
as  of  their  own  people.  Each  wounded 
officer  had  a  room  to  himself,  while  the 
men  had  clean,  comfortable  beds  in 
sweet  and  well-aired  dormitories. 

The  rage  against  Vaudreuil  was 
very  great  among  the  citizens  of  Que- 
bec, especially  the  women,  and  found 
vehement  expression  in  the  wish  "that 
he  may  suffer  as  miserable  and  bar- 
barous a  death  as  ever  European 
suflFered  from  the  savages." 

Murray  issued  a  proclamation  to  the 
Canadians,  which  was  posted  on  the 
door  of  every  parish  church.  He 
pointed  out  to  them  that  he  had  a  vet- 
eran army  in  the  heart  of  their  coun- 
try, that  the  sea  was  closed  to  them, 
and  that  their  cause  was  hopeless. 
He  begged  them  to  think  of  the  wel- 
fare of  their  country,  and  not  of  use- 
less glory.  The  English  people  were 
ready  to  embrace  them  as  brothers 
and  give  them  a  freedom  which  they 
had  never  known  under  the  despotism 
which  hitherto  distinguished  the  gov- 
ernment of  the  country.  He  was  pre- 
pared to  protect  them  against  the 
savages,  who  Vaudreuil,  having  him- 
self fled  before  the  British  arms,  now 
incited  to  murder  the  people  he  had 
abandoned  because  they  wished  for 
peace.  The  Canadians  must  now  see 
how  false  were  those  who  told  them 
that  the  British  were  devoid  of  clem- 
ency and  humanity,  and  how  grossly 
they  had  been  imposed  upon.   Having, 


therefore,  no  more  hope  in  arms  and 
no  further  excuse  for  taking  them  up, 
the  British  would  visit  those  who  did 
so  with  the  just  vengeance  that  was 
the  right  of  victorious  soldiers  who 
had  held  out  to  them  the  hand  of 
peace  artd  friendship.  The  oath  of 
allegiance  was  administered  to  the 
whole  country  east  of  Quebec.  Those 
parishes  that  deliberately  broke  it 
were  liable  to  severe  punishment,  and 
a  few  examples  had  unhappily  to  be 
made. 

L^vis,  in  the  meantime,  kept  a  con- 
siderable army  in  garrison  between 
Jacques  Cartier  and  Montreal,  while 
his  Indians  and  Rangers  lurked  con- 
tinually in  the  actual  neighbourhood  of 
Quebec.  Occasional  stragglers  were 
cut  off,  and  wood-cutting,  one  of  the 
most  vital  operations  of  the  winter, 
had  to  be  carried  on  under  armed 
escorts.  There  were  no  horses  left, 
and  continual  processions  of  sleighs, 
dragged  by  soldiers  and  loaded  with 
cordwood,  went  backwards  and  for- 
wards over  the  four  miles  between  the 
city  and  the  forest  of  Saint  Foy. 

The  defences  of  Quebec  on  the  west 
side  were  feeble,  and  the  frozen  ground 
effectually  prevented  any  intrenching 
work  being  done  outside  the  walls. 
Murray  fortified  and  occupied  with  a 
strong  guard,  constantly  relieved,  the 
churches  of  Saint  Foy,  three  miles, 
and  Lorette,  twelve  miles  distant,  in 
the  direction  of  Montreal.  This  pre- 
vented all  danger  of  a  surprise,  at  any 
rate,  and  the  air  was  thick  with 
rumours  that  L^vis,  with  10,000  to 
15,000  men,  was  meditating  an  assault. 
The  French  commander  had,  indeed, 
plenty  of  men,  but  very  little  food  for 
them,  and  it  taxed  all  the  resources  of 
Bigot,  who  was  at  Montreal,  to  find 
them  a  bare  sustenance. 

The  chill  of  October  gave  way  to 
the  cold  of  November,  and  as  Christ- 
mas approached  the  full  rigour  of  the 
Canadian  winter  struck  the  thinly-clad, 
ill- fed  troops  with  dire  effect.  Frost- 
bitten hands  and  cheeks  and  feet  was 
the  common  lot  of  the  sentries  on  the 
numerous  guards  which  it  was  neces- 
sary to  post  in   every  quarter  of  the 


THE  FIGHT  FOR  NORTH  AMERICA 


171 


city  and  its  outskirts.  The  officers, 
says  Knox,  who  could,  of  course,  pro- 
cure wraps,  became  unrecog^nisable  to 
each  other,  as,  buried  in  rugs  and 
furs,  they  went  about  their  business  at 
a  run,  and  too  fast  to  admit  of  the  or- 
dinary salutation  that  courtesy  de- 
manded. But  frost-bite  gave  way  to 
even  yet  more  serious  evils,  and  the  sick 
list  lengthened  with  formidable  rapid- 
ity. Exposure  and  an  unalleviated 
diet  of  salt  meat  played  havoc  with  the 
men  of  all  ranks.  On  Christmas  Day 
the  garrison  had  sunk,  from  the  vari- 
ous drains  upon  it,  to  6,400  men, 
1,400  of  whom  were  in  hospital,  and  it 
became  infinitely  worse  later  on.  The 
spirits  of  the  troops  were  excellent, 
but  discipline  relaxed  under  the  con- 
tinual privation  without  the  stimulus 
of  fighting,  and  aided  somewhat  by 
the  fact  that  liquor  was  the  only  thing 
in  the  city  that  was  not  scarce.  Be- 
leaguered as  effectually  by  nature  as 
if  hemmed  in  by  armed  hosts,  and 
perched  on  its  white  throne,  all  glitter- 
ing in  the  bright  but  impotent  sun- 
shine of  a  Canadian  winter,  the  cap- 
tured city,  with  its  roofless  churches 
and  shattered  houses,  was  in  a  sorry 
plight.  The  inhabitants,  whose  hours 
of  going  out  and  of  coming  in  Mur- 
ray, in  his  critical  position,  was  com- 
pelled to  regulate,  suffered  even  more 
than  the  soldiers,  for  most  of  them 
had  lost  their  all.  Punishments  of 
British  soldiers  for  theft  or  outrage  or 
infringement  of  rules  were  prompt, 
and  seem  savage  enough,  too,  for  one 
reads  again  and  again  of  1,000  lashes 
sometimes  "  reduced  to  300  on  account 
of  the  severity  of  the  weather."  Now 
we  hear  of  a  Frenchman  executed  for 
inciting  to  desertion,  and  now  of  two 
British  soldiers  condemned  to  death 
for  robbery;  but  the  sentence  is  miti- 
gated to  one  only,  upon  which  we  are 
shown  a  grim  spectacle  of  the  culprits 
throwing  dice  for  death  or  freedom, 
and  learn  that  eleven  was  the  winning 
throw.  Two  women  are  flogged 
through  the  town  for  selling  liquor 
without  leave  and  an  officer  and  forty 
men  blown  up  in  an  abandoned  French 
ship  which  they  were  scuttling.     Occa- 


sional skirmishes  between  New  Eng- 
land Rangers  under  Captain  Hazen 
and  French  guerillas  on  the  south  shore 
of  the  frozen  river  break  the  monotony 
of  suffering  and  sickness.  V'audreuil 
surpasses  himself  in  the  reports  he 
sends  down  the  river.  "The  Grand 
Monarch,"  he  assures  the  credulous 
Canadians,  '*  has  sunk,  burned  and 
destroyed  the  greatest  fleet  that  ever 
England  put  to  sea;  madean  entire  con- 
quest of  Ireland,  and  put  all  the 
troops  and  natives  who  were  in  arms 
to  the  sword;  so  that  the  next  ship 
will  certainly  bring  us  an  account  of  a 
peace  being  concluded.  Quebec  will 
be  restored  and  Canada  once  more 
flourish  under  a  French  government." 

But  the  incidents  of  this  somewhat 
unique  experience  of  a  British  army 
isolated  in  the  interior  of  a  hostile 
country,  under  a  semi-Arctic  winter, 
excellent  reading  as  they  are  in  the 
letters  of  those  who  suffered  or  laughed 
at  them,  must  be  treated  with  scant 
notice  here.  Sickness  and  suffering, 
though  cheerfully  borne,  was,  unhap- 
pily, the  chief  feature  of  this  bitter  win- 
ter, and  that  most  of  it  was  due  to  the 
neglect  of  a  department  which,  with 
the  experience  of  Louisbourg  and 
Halifax,  had  no  excuse,  is  sad  to  think 
of.  By  Christmas  150  soldiers  had 
died;  in  the  next  two  months  200 
more  succumbed,  and  by  the  end  of 
April  the  grand  total  was  no  less  than 
650,  nearly  all  victims  of  scurvy,  dys- 
entery and  fever.  Most  of  the  bodies 
lay  above  ground  and,  frozen  stiff, 
awaited  burial  till  graves  could  be 
dug.  Murray's  effective  force  dropped 
to  about  3,000  men,  but  the  strangest 
part  of  the  whole  business  is  that,  out 
of  600  British  women  attached  to  the 
army,  not  a  single  one  died  and 
scarcely  any  sickened! 

Point  L^vis  church,  now  only  a  mile 
across  the  frozen  river,  had  been  forti- 
fied and  garrisoned,  and  had  already 
once  repulsed  the  French  advanced 
parties.  Saint  Foy  and  Lorette,  too, 
had  been  strengthened,  and  Levis' 
rangers,  skirmishing  for  food  and  in- 
telligence, had  been  punished  there  on 
more   than   one    occasion.     Spies  and 


172 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


news  bearers  went  freely  backwards 
and  forwards.  As  the  winter  waned, 
Murray  heard  that  L6vis  was  of  a  cer- 
tainty coming  to  assault  the  city,  that 
his  army  had  been  supplied  with  scal- 
ing-ladders and  was  being  exercised 
in  their  use  upon  the  church  walls  of 
Montreal,  to  the  great  injury  of  the 
men's  limbs  and  the  great  diversion  of 
the  ladies,  who,  from  all  accounts, 
were  even  less  depressed  than  their 
sisters  of  Quebec.  Everyone,  how- 
ever, felt  that  the  crisis  would  be 
solved  by  sea  rather  than  by  land, 
and  the  fleet  which  first  ascended  the 
St.  Lawrence  in  the  spring  would  be 
the  determining  factor  in  the  possers- 
sion  of  Quebec.  F^ebruary  passed 
away,  and  with  March  the  fierce  cold 
of  midwinter  relaxed.  But  it  was  not 
till  April  that  the  melting  ice  and 
snows  in  the  milder  regions  of  Upper 
Canada  began  the  great  upheaval  of 
the  frozen  surface  of  the  St.  Lawrence, 
which  marks  the  close  of  winter. 

Ldvis  now  began  to  move.  Diffi- 
culties of  transport  without  horses  had 
compelled  him  to  relinquish  all 
thoughts  of  a  winter  attack  upon  the 
town.  There  were  still  the  French 
ships  in  the  upper  river,  which,  it  will 
be  remembered,  had  retired  up  the 
tributaries  the  preceding  summer 
before  Saunders'  fleet,  and  upon  these 
he  depended  when  the  ice  had  broken 
to  descend  upon  Quebec.  Full 
accounts  of  the  sickness  of  the  British 
garrison  and  its  dwindling  numbers 
had  been  brought  to  Montreal.  And 
Vaudreuil,  whose  arithmetic  always 
tallied  with  his  wishes  or  his  vanity, 
subjected  the  English  forces  to  the 
process  of  division,  weak  as  they  truly 
were,  instead  of  multiplying  them  by 
three,  which  was  his  usual  custom  after 
either  victory  or  defeat.  He  was 
naturally  anxious  that  every  effort 
should  be  made  to  recover  the  capital, 
and  it  was  not  his  part  to  lead  the 
troops  into  the  deadly  breach. 

On  the  1 8th  of  April  the  British 
learned  definitely  that  they  were  to  be 
attacked  with  "the  whole  force  of 
Canada" — that  two  months'  provisions 
and  a  supply  of  brandy  for  the  regular 


troops  had  been  especially  stored  for 
this  supreme  effort,  and  that  the  French 
ships  were  to  co-operate.  On  the  2ist, 
Murray  ordered  all  Canadians,  except 
nuns,  out  of  the  town  at  three  days* 
notice,  giving  them  facilities,  howeves, 
for  storing  and  guarding  their  prop- 
erty. Full  sympathy  was  felt  for  these 
poor  people,  but  3,000  British  soldiers, 
with  as  many  invalids  behind  them, 
stood  face  to  face  with  such  strength 
as  all  Canada,  with  a  brave  and  re- 
sourceful general,  could  command, 
and  there  was  no  room  for  sentiment. 
The  fugitives,  as  they  left  the  city,  up- 
braided the  English  for  breaking  the 
conditions  of  the  capitulation,  assuring 
them  that  the  approach  of  L^vis  was  a 
false  alarm  which,  if  their  information 
had  been  trusted  instead  of  that  of 
scouts,  deserters  and  spies,  would  be 
readily  recognised.  Thesequelshowed 
the  value  and  the  justice  of  such  worth- 
less recriminations.  Six  days  after- 
wards Ldvis,  with  an  army  of  over 
7,000  men,  arrived  in  front  of  the  British 
outposts  at  Lorette.  He  had  reached 
Pointe  aux  Trembles,  close  to  Jacques 
Cartier,  on  the  26th,  with  his  ships, 
supplies  and  troops.  Thence^  de- 
spatching his  vessels  down  the  river, 
he  had  marched  by  an  inland  route, 
crossed  the  stream  of  Cap  Rouge  some 
miles  above  its  mouth,  and  appeared 
before  Lorette,  the  English  outposts 
at  the  same  time  falling  back  upon 
St.  Foy. 

This  night  the  most  appalling  thun- 
derstorm that  had  been  known  for  years 
lit  up  a  gloomy  prospect  of  melting 
snow  and  thawing  ice-fields  and  drip- 
ping woods.  Above  it  all,  in  the  glare 
of  the  lightning  flashes,  the  battered 
towers  and  gables  of  the  long-harassed 
city  rose  above  the  surging  river,  still 
gurgling  and  choking  with  the  frag- 
ments of  its  wintry  load.  When  the 
thunder  ceased,  a  tempest  of  unusual 
fury  burst  from  the  south-west. 
Waves,  winds  and  ice-floes  raged 
together  in  furious  combat  from  Cap 
Rouge  to  Point  L^vis  and  from  Point 
L6vis  across  to  the  island  of  Orleans 
and  the  shallow  strands  of  Beauport, 
while  the  Montmorency  flung  over  its 


THE  FIGHT  FOR  NORTH  AMERICA 


173 


dark  cliff  into  the  chaos  below  the 
foaming  waters  of  a  hundred  fresh- 
loosened  streams.  In  the  dark  hours 
of  this  wild  night  a  French  soldier  was 
drifting  down  the  St.  Lawrence  upon 
an  ice-floe,  expecting  every  moment  to 
be  his  last.  He  was  whirled  along 
past  the  cliffs  which  Wolfe  had  climbed, 
past  Cape  Diamond  and  Point  L^vis 
and  onwards  to  the  island  of  Orleans. 
Then  the  swift  tide  turned  and  washed 
him  back,  by  a  piece  of  good  fortune, 
to  where  the  only  British  ship,  the 
Racehorse  sloop,  that  had  wintered  in 
the  river,  was  anchored  in  the  slacker 
water  below  the  town.  Here,  by 
almost  a  miracle,  he  was  seen  and  res- 
cued, more  dead  than  alive.  It  was 
two  hours  before  theexhausted  French- 
man could  give  an  account  of  himself, 
which  was  to  the  effect  that  he 
belonged  to  Levis'  army,  had  been 
upset  with  others  in  a  boat,  and  had 
succeeded  with  infinite  difficulty  in 
scrambling  on  to  the  ice-floe  on  which 
he  was  found.  He  then  informed  his 
rescuers  that  Ldvis  was  at  that 
moment  coming  on  with  12.000  men 
against  the  city.  It  was  about  four 
o'clock  in  the  morning,  but  the  res- 
cued man  was  carried  without  delay  in 
a  hammock  up  the  steep  streets  to 
Murray's  quarters,  where  he  repeated 
his  story.  Murray  was  anticipating 
an  attack,  but  hardly  so  soon,  and  the 
information  so  strangely  fished  up  from 
the  flood  and  darkness  proved  of 
vital  import. 

It  was,  moreover,  entirely  correct. 
All  through  that  night  the  brave  L^vis, 
amid  storm  and  darkness,  through 
melting  snow  wreaths  and  swollen 
rivulets,  was  leading  the  gathered 
remnants  of  the  French  forces  to  strike 
one  last  blow  for  the  colony.  Indeed, 
had  it  not  been  for  the  lightning,  he 
himself  declares,  all  progress  would 
have  been  impossible.  He  had  not 
12,000  men,  but  he  had  nearly  8,000 
by  his  own  statement,  some  4,000  of 
whom  were  regulars  of  the  veteran 
battalions  that  had  done  such  yeoman 
service  for  Canada  during  the  five 
years  of  war.  They  were  smarting 
from  the  defeat  of  September,   though 


not  all  had  been  in  it,  and  thirsting  for 
revenge.  Vaudreuil,  whose  imagin- 
ation was  invaluable  to  his  cause,  had 
assured  them  that  the  British  garrison 
were  destroyed  by  disease  and  that  a 
French  fleet  would  assuredly  sail  up 
the  St.  Lawrence  the  moment  naviga- 
tion opened. 

As  regards  the  British  garrison,  he 
was  not  so  wide  of  the  mark  as  usual, 
and  on  the  morning  of  the  27th 
Murray  mustered  them.  There  were 
rather  over  3,000  men  fit  for  duty,  and 
Sergeant  Johnson,  whose  account  of 
the  siege  is  a  notable  if  rough-and- 
ready  contribution,  describes  them  as 
"scorbutic  skeletons." 

For  the  last  few  days  Murray  had 
been  trying  to  raise  intrenchments  on 
the  Plains  of  Abraham,  before  the  city 
walls,  without  much  avail.  But 
though  a  vast  quantity  of  fascines  and 
piquets  had  been  cut  and  the  ubiqui- 
tous and  invaluable  MacKellar  was 
there  as  chief  engineer,  the  still  frozen 
ground  defeated  their  best  efforts. 
MacKellar,  from  the  early  days  of 
Braddock,  seems  to  have  represented 
in  his  own  person  everything  that  was 
trustworthy  in  the  scientific  branch. 
Generals  came  and  went,  but  MacKel- 
lar was  always  there.  Whether  a  fort 
was  to  be  built,  trenches  were  to  be 
opened  or  a  scientific  opinion  was 
wanted,  so  far  as  one  man  could  supply 
the  need  in  so  many  quarters,  it  was 
always  MacKellar,  and  it  may  be  noted 
as  significant  that  he  was  still  only  a 
major.  On  the  27th,  Murray  marched 
out  half  his  army  to  feel  the  enemy  and 
cover  the  retreat  of  his  outposts.  He 
proceeded  to  St.  Foy,  where  the  pla- 
teau, extending  westward  from  the 
Plains  of  Abraham,  terminates  in  a 
slope,  and  there,  from  the  ridge  indi- 
cated, where  stood  the  church  and 
several  houses,  he  saw  the  French 
clustering  thick  beyond  the  marshes 
and  at  the  edge  of  the  woods.  This 
movement  was  only  intended  as  a  re- 
connaissance in  force,  so,  having 
achieved  what  he  wanted,  he  returned 
to  Quebec,  and  prepared  for  more 
serious  action.  There  had  been  much 
discussion   as  to  what   Murray  should 


174 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


now  have  done.  Theoretically,  3,000 
men,  supported  by  a  number  of  semi- 
invalids  who  could  only  contribute 
some  assistance  behind  walls,  ought 
not  to  leave  a  fortified  town,  whose 
retention  was  vital,  to  attack  much 
more  than  twice  their  number  in  the 
open  field. 

It  has  been  said  that  Murray,  who 
was  young  and  ardent,  wished  to 
emulate  the  fame  of  Wolfe,  and  to 
gratify  at  the  same  time  the  perhaps 
overweening  confidence  of  his  troops, 
who  had  come  to  think  themselves 
irresistible.  On  the  other  hand,  the 
defences  of  the  town  were  bad  on  that 
side,  and  external  intrenchments  were 
impossible.  He  thought  that  this  fact, 
coupled  with  the  temper  of  his  troops, 
required  aggressive  rather  than  de- 
fensive tactics.  Rightly  or  wrongly, 
however,  he  marched  out  upon  the 
following  day  with  every  available 
soldier  and  a  hundred  eager  volunteers 
from  the  sutlers  and  supernumeraries, 
3,ioo  in  all,  to  give  battle  to  L6vis. 

Murray's  men  marched  cheerily  out, 
and  crossing  the  memorable  ground 
on  which  in  September  they  had  so 
nobly  proved  their  prowess,  approached 
the  French  position.  Some  twenty 
guns  went  with  them,  dragged,  for 
lack  of  horses,  through  the  mud  and 
slush  by  some  400  men.  The  French 
right  touched  the  blockhouses  which 
stood  near  the  Anse  du  Foulon,  where 
Wolfe  had  landed.  The  left  of  their 
advance  line  spread  across  the  ridge 
and  reached  the  top  of  the  slope  be- 
yond, where  stood  a  farmhouse  and  a 
windmill,  while  in  the  rear  the  main 
forces  of  the  French  were  coming  rap- 
idly up  from  Sillery  and  St.  Foy. 

The  French  vanguard  had  just  be- 
gun to  intrench  themselves,  and  the 
bulk  of  their  army  were  hardly  in  posi- 
tion when  Murray  thought  the  hour 
had  come  to  strike.  The  guns,  which 
were  scattered  between  the  battalions, 
opened  fire  with  considerable  effect, 
while  the  light  infantry  on  the  right 
and  the  rangers  on  the  left,  under 
Dallingand  Hazen  respectively,  dashed 
forward  on  the  extremities  of  the 
French    vanguard,    and    drove    them 


from  their  half-finished  redoubts,  the 
centre  retiring  with  them  on  the  main 
column.  But  the  latter  was  immensely 
strong,  and  hurled  forward  heavy  bod- 
ies of  good  troops,  who  drove  the  over- 
confident British  light  infantry  back 
in  much  confusion,  to  the  detriment  of 
the  ranks  who  were  coming  up  behind. 
There  was  some  sharp  fighting  around 
the  buildings  upon  the  right  and  left. 
Most  of  them  were  taken  and  retaken 
more  than  once.  The  British  supports 
were  ordered  up,  and  the  whole  line 
pressed  too  far  forward  between  the 
horns  of  the  outnumbering  "and  out- 
flanking French.  There  was  fierce 
and,  for  a  time,  successful  fighting  on 
the  British  side;  but  their  very  ardour 
injured  them,  as  both  guns  and  men 
found  themselves  drawn  down  into  low 
ground,  where  the  snow  and  slush  was 
knee-deep  and  the  guns  could  not  be 
moved.  On  both  sides  they  encoun- 
tered not  only  a  flanking  fire,  but  one 
greatly  helped  by  the  cover  of  extend- 
ing woods.  The  light  infantry  were 
completely  put  out  of  action,  and 
every  officer  killed  or  wounded.  The 
French  now  turned  all  their  attention 
to  the  British  flanks  in  desperate 
efforts  to  get  round  behind  them  and 
cut  them  off  from  the  city.  They  had 
by  this  time,  according  to  Murray, 
10,000  men  in  the  field,  and  the  3,000 
"scorbutic  skeletons,"  now  sadly 
diminished  even  from  that  scant  total, 
were  at  length  forced  to  fall  back. 
The  guns  were  hopelessly  mired,  and 
had  to  be  abandoned;  but  the  retreat 
was  conducted  in  good  order,  and 
there  was  no  attempt  at  pursuit. 
Some  of  the  troops,  on  hearing  the 
order  to  full  back,  to  which  they 
were  so  long  unaccustomed,  shouted 
out  in  indignation,  "D — n  it!  what 
is  falling  back  but  retreating?" 
The  battle  had  not  lasted  two 
hours,  but  it  had  been  an  unusually 
bloody  one.  .  Murray's  loss  was  over 
1,100  men,  more  than  a  third  of  his 
force;  while  that  of  the  French  was 
estimated  at  various  figures  between 
800  and  2,000. 

No  time  was  now   lost  in  preparing 
to   defend    the    city,    for   the   position 


THE  FIGHT  FOR  NORTH  AMERICA 


175 


was  critical.  Everyone  who  could  stir 
a  hand  was  set  to  some  sort  of  work, 
the  women  to  cooking,  and  the  con- 
valescents to  filling  sand- bags.  Em- 
brasures were  made  and  platforms 
erected  on  the  walls  for  mounting  can- 
non. Officers  and  men  worked  like 
horses;  the  former,  with  their  coats 
off,  helped  to  drag  the  guns  up  the 
steep  streets  and  hoist  them  into  posi- 
tion. 

For  a  moment  there  had  been  faint 
signs  of  demoralisation  in  the  shape 
of  drunkenness;  but  Murray  crushed 
the  tendency  with  vigour,  and  by  ex- 
emplary punishment,  and,  on  his  own 
part,  showed  unbounded  energy  in  this 
hour  of  trial.  The  odds  would  seem 
great,  but  there  was  no  failing  of 
either  courage  or  cheerfulness  on  the 
part  of  a  garrison  now  reduced  to 
2,400  effective  men,  with  nothing  but 
some  indifferent  defences  between 
them,  and  four  times  their  number 
of  reinvigorated  Frenchmen.  But 
Murray  had  at  least  no  lack  of  guns, 
and  these  were  being  rapidly  massed 
along  the  western  walls.  It  made 
Sergeant  Johnson's  heart  ache,  and 
outraged  his  sense  of  military  pro- 
priety to  see  the  exertions  of  the  offi- 
cers. "  None  but  those  who  were 
present,"  says  the  worthy  sergeant, 
"can  imagine  the  grief  of  heart  the 
soldiers  felt  to  see  their  officers,  yoked 
in  harness,  dragging  up  cannon  from 
the  lower  town,  and  working  at  the 
batteries  with  pick  and  spade." 

The  French  were  busy  entrenching 
themselves  scarce  a  thousand  yards 
from  the  walls,  and  De  Bourlamaque, 
though  severely  wounded,  was  in 
charge  of  the  operations.  Their  seven 
or  eight  vessels  had,  in  the  meantime, 
dropped  down  to  the  Ansa  de  Foulon. 
Stores  of  all  kinds  were  being  dis- 
charged and  carried  up  the  cliffs.  The 
French,  fortunately  for  Murray,  were 
weak  in  artillery,  and  their  guns  were 
dismounted  by  the  accurate  and  rapid 
fire  of  the  British  almost  as  fast  as  they 
could  be  set  up.  With  such  a  great 
numerical  advantage,  an  assault  was  the 
natural  proceeding  for  Levis  to  Take, 
and  one  was   hourly  expected.      "  Let 


them  come,"  said  the  men;  '*  they  will 
catch  a  Tartar." 

Even  now  friendly  amenities  and 
banter  passed  between  the  oppos- 
ing generals.  L^vis  sent  Murray  a 
present  of  spruce-pine  tops  for  mak- 
ing spruce  beer,  and  some  partridges; 
while  Murray  sent  Levis  in  return  a 
Cheshire  cheese.  The  French  leader 
offered  to  back  himself  to  capture  the 
city  for  ;^5oo.  Murray  replied  that  he 
would  not  rob  de  Levis  of  his  money, 
as  he  felt  quite  convinced  that  he 
would  have  the  pleasure  of  shipping 
him  and  his  whole  army  back  to 
Europe  in  the  summer  in  English 
bottoms. 

Two  days  after  the  battle  Murray 
had  sent  the  Racehorse  sloop,  the  soli- 
tary ship  before  mentioned,  off  to  Hal- 
ifax, bearing  the  news  of  his  critical 
situation  to  Admiral  Colville,  who  with 
a  strong  fleet  was  cruising  in  those 
seas.  Should  English  ships  get  up  to 
Quebec,  it  was  all  over  with  Levis, 
for  if  he  was  still  outside  the  city  he 
would  have  no  recourse  but  in  retreat. 
If  a  French  squadron,  on  the  other 
hand,  should  be  first  in  the  river,  the 
work  of  Wolfe  would  be  undone.  The 
former  was,  of  course,  far  the  most 
likely,  but  the  French  troops  and 
Canadians  were  buoyed  up  by  state- 
ments to  the  contrary.  For  nine  days 
the  British  batteries  poured  shot  and 
shell  upon  the  French,  who,  busy  with 
their  intrenchments,  scarcely  replied. 
The  air  was  thick  with  rumours  that  a 
fleet  was  ascending  the  river,  and  sig- 
nals upon  the  mountains  to  the  east- 
ward appeared  to  the  garrison  to  give 
good  grounds  for  them;  but  whose 
fleet  was  it!  A  French  sloop  had  run 
down  past  the  batteries  on  the  4th. 
On  the  8th  she  was  forging  back  again 
before  a  fresh  south-east  wind.  "Why 
don't  you  stop  and  pilot  up  your 
fleet  ?"  the  English  shouted  at  her  as 
she  went  by.  But  she  took  no  notice, 
and  made  up  the  river  to  her  consorts 
by  the  Anse  du  Foulon.  The  next 
morning.  May  9th,  the  reason  of  the 
Frenchman's  haste  was  evident,  for  a 
ship  of  war  sailed  into  the  basin. 
There  was  a   brief  moment  of  doubt 


176 


THE  CA  NA  DIA  N  MA  GA  ZINE 


and  suspense  as  to  the  vital  question  of 
her  nationality.  Presently,  however, 
her  colours  ran  up.  They  were  those  of 
Britain,  for  she  was  the  frigate  Zow^- 
stoft.  "  The  gladness  of  the  garrison," 
says  honest  Knox,  "is  not  to  be 
expressed.  Both  officers  and  men 
mounted  the  parapets  in  the  (ace  of 
the  enemy,  and  huzzaed  with  their  hats 
in  the  air  for  fully  an  hour."  Captain 
Deane,  having  saluted  with  twenty- 
one  guns,  came  ashore  in  his  barge, 
and  dispelled  all  doubts  with  the  glor- 
ous  news  that  a  British  fleet  was 
ascending  the  river.  L^vis,  however, 
had  either  not  received  the  information 
or  disbelieved  it.  For  though  an  im- 
mediate assault  was  his  only  hope,  he 
went  on  with  his  approaches  as  if  the 
whole  summer  lay  before  him,  throw- 
ing but  a  feeble  fire  against  the  British 
works.  The  moment  a  British  squad- 
ron, of  sufficient  strength  merely  to 
destroy  his  handful  of  small  vessels, 
arrived,  his  position  was  untenable, 
for  he  had  no  means  of  feeding  his 
already  hungry  army;  and  on  the 
night  of  the  15th  that  moment  arrived. 

It  was  the  battleship  Vanguard  and 
the  frigate  Diana  that  had  sailed  in; 
and  on  the  following  morning  the  lat- 
ter, together  with  the  Lowestoft, 
favoured  by  a  fresh  breeze  from  the 
east,  sailed  past  the  town  and  fell 
upon  Levis'  ships.  These  were  two 
frigates  and  four  smaller  vessels,  com- 
manded by  Vaquelin,  the  brave  officer 
who  had  fought  his  ship  so  well  at  the 
siege  of  Louisbourg,  then  plugged  her 
up  and  sailed  through  the  British  fleet 
for  France.  Here,  too,  he  fought  his 
small  ships  most  bravely,  but  one  by 
one  they  were  destroyed, 'and  he  him- 
self was  ultimately  taken  prisoner. 

The  French  had  nothing  for  it   now 


but  to  retreat,  and  L6vis  lost  no  time. 
The  Vanguard  swung  out  in  the  river 
off  Sillery,  laid  her  broadside  to  the 
French  trenches,  and  enfiladed  them 
from  the  south.  The  enthusiastic  gar- 
rison, who,  by  working  day  and  night, 
had  got  140  guns  into  position,  opened 
the  most  tremendous  cannonade,  say 
their  officers,  that  they  had  ever  heard. 
But  the  retreat  had  already  begun, 
and  the  gunners,  elevating  their  pieces, 
sent  a  storm  of  balls  ricochetting  and 
bounding  along  the  Plains  of  Abraham 
upon  the  heels  of  the  fast-vanishing 
French,  wholeft  behind  them  along  trail 
of  dead  and  wounded  as  a  result  of  the 
fortnight's  siege,  besides  all  their  guns 
and  stores.  The  Canadian  irregulars, 
of  course,  deserted  the  retreating 
army,  which  reached  Montreal  at  the 
end  of  May  in  a  sad  state  of  depression. 
There  Vaudreuil  and  L^vis  had  to  con- 
coct such  plans  as  they  were  able  to 
meet  the  overwhelming  forces  that 
were  even  then  gathering  to  move 
against  the  doomed  colony.  Trois 
Rivieres  (Three  Rivers)  was  the  third 
town  in  Canada,  lying  about  midway 
between  Quebec  and  Montreal.  The 
whole  country  east  of  that  point  was 
now  in  British  hands;  the  people  had 
sworn  allegiance  (the  priesthood  in- 
cluded) to  King  George,  and  had  re- 
turned with  relief,  if  not  with  actual 
joy,  to  their  neglected  and  often  wasted 
homes.  From  Three  Rivers  up  to 
Montreal,  and  from  Montreal  on  to 
the  rapids,  beyond  which  the  English 
dominated  Lake  Ontario,  was  practi- 
cally all  that  was  left  of  Canada  to  the 
French  King.  The  capture  of  Mon- 
treal would  complete  the  business,  and 
to  this  end  Amherst,  by  Pitt's  instruc- 
tions, and  in  full  accordance  with  his 
own  ardour,  bent  all  his  energies. 


TO    BE    CONCLUDED    IN   JANUARY 


THE  most  startling^  incident  during^ 
the  past  month  was  unquestion- 
ably the  extraordinary  conduct  of  the 
Russian  fleet  in  firing  on  some  British 
fishing  vessels  in  the  North  Sea.  The 
outlook  was  disturbing  in  the  extreme 
for  a  day  or  two,  but  largely  owing  to 
the  admirable  temper  of  the  British 
authorities  the  delicate  affair  was  sat- 
isfactorily accommodated.  Russia  was 
placed  in  a  most  unenviable  position  by 
what  cannot  be  regarded  otherwise 
than  the  panic  of  someone  on  the  fleet. 
To  virtually  degrade  and  humiliate  an 
officer  or  officers  of  a  war  fleet  on  its 
way  to  engage  the  enemy  would  be 
coming  perilously  close  to  making  the 
expedition  ridiculous.  There  can  be 
no  doubt  that  the  prompt  action  of 
the  King  in  telegraphing  his  sym- 
pathy to  the  victims,  and 
his  characterisation  of  the 
affair  as  "an  unwarrant- 
able action,"  did  more  than 
any  other  one  thing  to  bring 
the  Czar  to  a  sense  of  how 
serious  the  occurrence  was. 
He  recognised  it  as  a  gen- 
tleman's judgment  on  the 
affair.  Following  on  the 
pranks  of  the  volunteer  fleet 
seizing  British  vessels  in  the 
Red  Sea,  there  was  a  sus- 
picion that  the  Russians  de- 
sired to  provoke  a  quarrel. 
Cool  thought  must  dismiss 
such  a  supposition,  but  it 
roused  the  nation  to  a  high 
pilch  of  indignation,  and  it 
was  especially  provoking  to 
have  this  eccentric  flotilla 
steaming  past  British  ports 
and  British  warships  bearing 
in  triumph  the  weapons  with 
which  two  British  subjects 
had  been  done  to  death. 


The  whole  affair  was  full  of  gun- 
powder, but  Lord  Lansdowne  kept  his 
head,  and  a  satisfactory  settlement  has 
been  arrived  at.  The  facts  will  be  in- 
vestigated by  a  commission.  I  shall  be 
much  surprised,  however,  if  the  Russian 
story  about  the  Japanese  torpedo  boats 
is  authenticated.  Torpedo  boats  are 
not  homeless  craft  that  can  roam  the 
deep  at  their  own  sweet  will.  They 
must  have  some  place  at  which  to  coal, 
at  least.  Where  would  this  be?  Even 
the  Russian  press  has  not  the  hardi- 
hood to  say  that  Japanese  torpedo 
boats  are  allowed  to  dodge  in  and  out 
of  English  harbours.  French,  Dutch 
or  Danish  harbours  are  equally  unthink- 
able, because  of  their  friendliness  to 
Russia.  Refuge  has  to  be  taken, 
therefore,    in     the     supposition     that 


STRAINED   RELATIONS 


RcssiA— "Sure!  I'll  make  it  all  right  with  you  as  soon 
as  I  can  fix  the  responsibility.  " — St.   Paul  Pioneer  Press. 


178 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


Swedish  harbours 
have  given  them 
shelter — an  absurd- 
ly improbable  con- 
jecture. It  is  not 
risking  much  to  say 
that  there  were  no 
hostile  craft  within 
thousands  of  miles,  and  that  the  occur- 
rence, which  would  be  ludicrous  if  it 
were  not  tragic,  was  a  combination  of 
nerves  and  reckless  arrogance. 


The  eventual  fate  of  this  mad-dog 
fleet,  as  someone  called  it,  when  it 
gets  where  there  really  are  some  foes, 
is  not  hard  to  surmise.  It  will  be 
well  for  it  if  peace  has  been  reached 
before  that  juncture.  The  conduct  of 
the  British  Government  has  been 
admirable.  Everyone  who  has  the 
real  sense  of  what  is  magnanimous  in 
nations  must  feel  that  Lord  Lans- 
downe's  calm  and  unmenacing  manner 
was  more  in  keeping  with  the  might 
of  Britain  than  truculence  and  swagger 
would  have  been.  It  put  him  in  an 
excellent  position  to  do  what  he  sub- 


THE   BALTIC   FLEET  SAILS   FOR   THE   FAR    EAST. — Life. 


PROPOSED    NEW   TYPE   OF    GUN    FOR    RUSSIAN   NAVY 

For  the  safety  of  themselves  and  friendly  craft  in  neutral 
waters. — Brooklyn  Eagle. 


sequently  did  at  the  Lord  Mayor's 
dinner,  namely,  to  express  the  general 
sense  of  mankind  on  the  deplorable- 
ness  of  the  present  war  in  the  East, 
and  to  suggest  the  propriety  and  duty 
of  friendly  intervention.  The  cable 
tells  us  that  his  statement  with  regard 
to  the  North  Sea  incident,  as  well  as 
his  proposal  for  intervention,  were 
received  with  marked  silence  by  his 
auditors.  This  should  not  disturb 
him  much,  for  the  ultimate  judgment 
of  the  nation  will  be  with  him.  The 
interests  of  Great  Britain  are  with 
peace.  No  great  upheaval  in  financial 
and  commercial  conditions  can  occur 
without  injuriously  affecting  the 
world's  greatest  trading  nation.  This 
is  the  material  side  of  it  and,  of 
course,  there  is  the  humane  side  which 
should  be  of  first  consideration. 

A  recent  despatch  from 
Washington  says  that  Pres- 
ident Roosevelt,  with  his 
blushing  honours  thick  upon 
him,  will  offer  himself  as  a 
mediator  between  the  bell- 
igerents. It  is  doubtful  if 
the  United  Statefs  will  be 
regarded  as  disinterested  as 
they  would  have  been  a  few 
years  ago.  Their  recent  ad- 
ventures have  betrayed  them 
as  having  some  ambitions 
abroad.  Their  interest  in 
making  friends  with  Japan 
is  quite  apparent.  The  Jap- 
anese, it  is  quite  evident, 
will  not  take  a  second  ^lace 
to  any  power  on  the  Pacific 
ocean,  and  the  United  States' 
interest  in  that  ocean  may  be 
measured  by  the  fact  that 
1,500  miles  of  their  coast 
line  abuts  on  it,  not  reckon- 


CURRENT  EVENTS  ABROAD 


•79 


ing^  the  Alaskan  littoral  at 
all.  Russia  might  fear  that 
she  might  be  sacrificed  to 
American  desire  to  establish 
claims  on  the  gratitude  of 
Japan.  The  President  might 
revive  his  tribunal  of  jurists 
of  repute,  and  then  there 
would  be  no  saying  what 
would  happen.  At  all  events, 
intervention  can  only  occur 
by  the  joint  action  of  sev- 
eral, if  not  all,  of  the  great 
powers.  The  opinion  has 
been  expressed,  even  in  Rus- 
sian papers,  that  any  at- 
tempt at  intervention  or 
mediation  would  be  treated 
by  Russia  as  an  unfriendly 
act.  To  so  regard  it  would 
be  contrary  to  the  spirit  of 
that  peace  tribunal  which 
the  Czar  was  so  influential 
in  establishing.  In  the  arti- 
cles of  the  first  convention, 
which  all  the  powers  signed, 
including  Russia  and  Japan,  the  pro- 
priety of  mediation  for  the  preserva- 
tion of  peace  was  directly  recognised. 
Nor  was  it  merely  to  prevent  wars  that 
this  was  prescribed.  Distinct  provision 
was  made  for  its  employment  after  a 
war  was  in  progress.  The  third  article 
of  the  Convention  reads  as  follows  : — 

•' The  right  to  offer  good  offices  or 
mediation  belongs  to  powers  who  are 
strangers  to  the  dispute  even  during 
the  course  of  hostilities.  The  exercise 
of  this  right  shall  never  be  regarded 
by  one  or  the  other  of  the  parties  to 
the  contest  as  an  unfriendly  act." 

Article  VIII  also  reads: — 

"  In  case  of  a  definite  rupture  of 
pacific  relations  the  powers  remain 
charged  with  the  joir>t  duty  of  taking 
advantage  of  every  opportunity  to  re- 
store peace." 

These  clauses  could  all  the  more 
appropriately  be  brought  to  the  at- 
tention of  the  Czar  because  it  is  under- 
stood that  the  draft  of  the  first  con- 
vention was  prepared  by  the  Russian 
delegates.  President  Roosevelt  could, 
therefore,  with  a  good  face,  urge  upon 
both   contestants    the  good   offices  of 


THE    PHANTOM    FLEET 


("Port  Arthur  anxiously  awaits  news  of  the  Baltic  Fleet. 
— Daily  Paper.)  — A^ncA  (London). 


the  powers.  The  negotiations  should 
be  opened,  if  possible,  before  the  fall  of 
Port  .Arthur,  for  it  would  be  easier  for 
Russia  to  accede  before  that  event 
than  after,  when  the  whole  nation  wrll 
be  smarting  with  the. chagrin  that  the 
loss  of  the  Gibraltar  of  the  East  will 
inevitably  cause,  however  long  it  has 
been  foreseen. 

•A 

The  election  of  President  Roosevelt 
by  an  overwhelming  majority  leaves 
no  doubt  that  whatever  action  he  may 
take  is  the  act  of  the  nation  of  which 
he  is  the  unquestioned  head.  Surely 
no  one  doubts  the  meaning  of  the 
amazing  strength  and  popularity 
which  the  President  displayed.  It  is 
a  general  notice  to  all  concerned  that 
the  United  States  propose  to  exercise 
their  due  influence  on  the  course  of  the 
world's  events.  It  is  a  most  natural 
development,  and  whenever  you  are  in 
doubt  as  to  how  a  democracy  will  act 
under  given  circumstances  you  have 
only  to  ascertain  how  the  average  man 
would  act  under  like  conditions.  Do 
not  ask  yourself  how  a  philosopher 
would  act,  or  a  saint,  or  a  man  of  pro- 


i8o 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


CONSULTATIONS   INVITED 

Mr.  Punch — "Won't  you  step  in  here? 
who's  very  anxious  to  tell  your  fortune." 

Lord   R-s-b-rv— "Yes,    I   know.     But- 
hand!" 


found  insight  and  an  intelligence  that 
pierces  the  future,  but  just  the  ordi- 
nary vain,  self-satisfied,  good-natured 
but  occasionally  irascible,  fickle,  short- 
sighted and  obtuse  man.  If  you  can 
predict  what  the  conduct  of  that  per- 
sonage will  be,  you  can  generally  pre- 
dict how  the  rulers  of  democracies  will 
comport  themselves.  Now,  the  typical 
man  sketched  above  is  invariably  a 
jingo  deep  down  in  his  heart,  whether 
he  is  aware  of  it  or  not,  and  is  only 
temporarily  converted  from  his  jingo- 
ism when  it  has  led  him  into  some  un- 
pleasant spot,  whence  he  rescues  him- 
self with  difficulty,  suffering  in  the  pro- 


cess, perhaps,  a  little 
loss  of  dignity  and  in- 
fluence. 

M.  Delcasse,  the 
French  Minister  of 
Foreign  Affairs,  has 
won  a  great  triumph 
in  gaining  the  approv- 
al of  the  French  Cham- 
ber for  the  colonial 
clauses  of  the  Franco- 
British  treaty.  These 
were  the  unwelcome 
parts  of  the  treaty  so 
tar  as  France  was  con- 
cerned, and  the  fishing 
interests  of  Brittany 
and  Normandy  made 
a  bitter  fight  against 
ratification.  Thetreaty, 
however,  was  carried 
by  a  four  to  one  major- 
ity, and  it  is  gratifying 
to  know  that  the  blight 
that  has  hung  over  the 
west  coast  of  New- 
foundland  has  at 
length  been  removed. 
The  settlers  and  fish- 
ermen on  that  shore 
will  now  be  able  to  ob- 
tain titles  to  the  pro- 
perty on  which  they 
have  hitherto  been  re- 
garded as  squatters 
and  as  liable  to  be  re- 
moved at  any  time  on 
demand  of  the  French 
authorities.  The  fact 
that  the  latter  never  did  seriously  de- 
mand their  removal  is  proof  that  they 
regarded  their  position  on  the  French 
Shore  as  artificial  and  unnatural.  The 
settlement  of  this  vexed  question  casts 
lustre  on  M.  Delcasse.  He  has  be- 
come a  permanency  in  French  political 
life.  Ministries  may  change,  but  each 
new  Premier  chooses  M.  Delcasse  as 
his  Foreign  Secretary.  Could  not  the 
same  continuity  of  policy  be  observed 
in  the  British  Foreign  Office  ?  Lord 
Lansdowne  has  done  his  work  remark- 
ably well,  and  on  lines  with  which  his 
opponents  could  scarcely  find  fault. 
John  A.   Ewan. 


There's  an  old  lady 

;r — /  never  show  my 
— Punch 


\^MAN 


3PHtRL 


M   .    M  a.  c  1^ 


We  ring^  the  bells  and  we  raise  the  strain, 
We  hanjf  up  g^arlands  everj'where 
And  bid  the  tapers  twinkle  fair, 
And  feast  and  frolic,  and  then  we  §^o 

Back  to  the  same  old  lives  again. 

—  Si  SAN  Cckii.iih;e. 


CHRISTMAS  PRESENTS 

THE  Christmas-present  question  is 
again  pressing  for  attention. 
To  the  city  girl  with  daily  access  to 
the  departmental  stores  and  their 
really  fine  bargains,  this  is  not  a  hard 
problem,  for  on  every  hand  she  sees  so 
many  things  that  would  be  suitable  for 
her  friends  that  the  trouble  is  to  keep 
from  getting  too  many  things.  Then 
there  is  no  end  to  the  suggestions 
thrown  out  by  bunches  of  narrow 
ribbon,  five  or  seven  yards  in  a 
bunch,  sold  for  ten  cents;  little  ther- 
mometers at  five  cents  each;  coloured 
or  burnt  leathers,  and  so  on. 

As  to  the  little  country  cousin  or 
the  girl  in  the  small  town  or  village, 
the  case  is  different.  As  a  rule,  she 
must  count  every  ten  cents  she  ex- 
pends, because  there  are  so  many 
relations  and  good  friends  to  be  re- 
membered— and  such  a  limited  supply 
of  "ten  centses."  Yet  there  are  scores 
and  scores  of  things  she  may  make 
herself  with  an  outlay  of  only  a  few 
cents. 

In  the  first  place,  she  must  find  out 
just  the  things  her  friends  would  appre- 
ciate— the  little  things  they  need  or 
would  admire.  People  have  such  dif- 
ferent tastes.  If  she  does  any  dainty 
fancy-work,  of  course,  she  is  fortunate, 

i8i 


as  drawn-work  or  lace  handkerchiefs, 
or  medallions  for  dress-trimmings,  col- 
lar and  cuffs,  are  always  welcome,  if 
not  actually  needed.  But  she  must  be 
always  on  her  guard  lest  she  give*a 
present  unsuitable  for  the  wearer'in 
colour,  style,  or  for  some  other 
reason. 


Stocks  are  always  useful  to  girls.  A 
simple  but  very  pretty  stock  is  made 
of  narrow  strips  of  golden-brown  vel- 
vet tacked  to  a  collar  shape,  the  edges 
turned  under  (Fig  i).  The  stripes  are 
about  a  sixteenth  of  an  inch  apart,  and 
are  connected  by  the  effective  "fag- 
goting," done  in  yellow  floss.     Yellow 


l82 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


dots  are  worked  along  the  velvet  strips, 
and  draped  from  the  front  point  are 
two  "flare  paddle"  ends  of  the  velvet, 
the  lower  edges  sprinkled  also  with 
the  yellow  dots. 
These  "flare 
paddle  "  ends — 
a  new  thing  out 
— are  lined  with 
the  velvet  itself, 
and  altogether 
this  makes  a  rich 
as  well  as  a  warm 
winter  stock,  and 
is  especially  suit- 
able to  the  low- 
necked  winter 
coat  or  suit.  The 
same  design  may 
also  be  worked 
in  white  on  a 
pale,  misty  blue, 
or  in  deep  red  on 
red.  Half  a  yard 
of  velvet,  in  this 
way,  would  make 
five  or  six  stocks. 
Another  stock — a  very  dainty  one — 
is  of  white  liberty  satin,  with  white 
silk  faggoting  and  blue  silk  dots  (Fig. 
2).  From  the  long  point  in  front  are 
suspended  six  roses  made  of  bias  folds 
of  the  satin,  and  shirred  round  and 
round.  These  are  diff"erent  lengths, 
and  hang  on  ends  of  white  baby- 
ribbon. 

Then  there  are  the  new  directoire 
belts  (Fig.  3),  which  are  so  graceful 
when  worn  with  a  draped  waist.  They 
can  be  made  easily,  and  out  of  any 
kind  of  silk  or  satin.  A  nice  style  is 
to  have  folds  of  silk,  about  six  inches 
deep  behind  and  in  front — boned,  of 
course^and  crushing  down  narrower 
at  the  sides.  Make  tiny  flat  bows, 
and  sew  them  down  the  back  and 
front  directly  under  each  other,  leav- 
ing just  space  enough  between  to  look 
nice.  The  front  may  fasten  with  hooks. 
Unless  there  is  stock  to  match  the 
belt  should  be  black,  as  that  may  be 
worn  with  any  odd  blouse  or  waist. 
Another  trimming  may  be  a  prettily 
shirred  fold  of  the  silk  sewed  length- 
wise down  the  back  and  the  front. 


A  very  inexpensive  thing  to  do  if 
one  has  a  large  number  of  friends 
whom  she  wishes  to  remember,  and 
does  not  mind  giving  them  the  same 
things,  would  be  to  buy  one  or  two 
dozen  calendars — ^just  the  little  twelve- 
sheet  ones — and  the  same  number  of 
small  thermometers,  which  may  be 
had  for  five  cents  each.  Tack  a  calen- 
dar to  the  lower  left-hand  side  of  a 
palm-leaf  fan  (Fig.  5)  ;  to  the  upper 
righthand  side  fasten  a  thermometer, 
and  tie  a  good  bow  of  corn-coloured 
ribbon  to  the  handle,  up  against  the 
fan.  This  makes  a  pretty  and  really 
useful  adornment  for  a  bedroom  or 
sewing-room. 

Another  quaint  thing  is  a  long  pin- 
cushion made  in  the  shape  of  a  carrot 
(Fig.  4).  Get 
carrot  -  coloured 
satin — the  plain- 
er the  material 
the  better — and 
cut  out  your  tri- 
angular shape. 
Sew  it  up,  fill 
with  sawdust, 
and  make  little 
cross  -  scratches 
with  pen  and 
black  ink.  Nar- 
row green  rib- 
bon, twisted, 
makes  the  "tops." 
This  cushion  can 
hang  on  the  wall 
or  lie  on  the  dress- 
er. Of  course 
the  pincushion 
idea  is  always 
capable  of  in- 
finite multiplica- 
tion. 

Pictures  are  al- 
ways welcome  to 
both  sexes,  and 
a  unique  way  to 
fix  the  smaller 
ones  is  to  get 
some    plaster   of 

Paris,  mix  it  with  water  until  it  will 
pour  nicely,  and  then,  after  you  have 
carefully  placed  your  picture — print  or 
unmounted    photograph — in    the  bot- 


FIG.   4 


WOMAN'S  SPtiERE 


i8^ 


torn  of  a  porridge-plate,  pour  in  the 
plaster  of  Paris.  Then  dry  in  a  slow 
oven,  or  let  it  stand  for  several  hours. 
When  the  mixture  is  perfectly  hard, 
tap  the  bottom  of  the  dish,  and  your 
placque  will  come  out  as  smooth  and 
clean  as  the  plate  itself,  and  the  pic- 
ture will  be  so  imbedded  in  the  plaster 
of  Paris  that  the  edges  will  not  show 
at  all.  This  is  a  very  nice  way  to 
treat  an  amateur  photo  or  a  head  of 
one  of  the  old  masters.  If  it  is  a  sub- 
ject in  which  the  recipient  is  interested 
he  will  prize  it  very  much.  To  get  the 
•*  hanger"  on,  turn  the  placque  on  its 
face,  place  a  loop  of  string  a  little 
above  the  middle,  exactly  centred 
crosswise,  and  put  over  it  a  *'  dab  "of 
the  plaster  of  Paris.  When  this  dries 
the  placque  is  ready,  and  will  hang 
flat  against  the  wall.  Different  shapes 
can  be  obtained,  of  course,  by  using 
differently- shaped  dishes,      B.  J.  T. 


Rtngf  out  ye  crystal  spherfs. 
Once  bless  our  human  ears 

(If  ve  have  power  to  touch  our  sensi- 
so); 
And  let  your  silver  chime 
Move  in  melodious  time. 
And   let  the  bass  of  heaven's  deep 
org'an  blow, 
And  with  your  ninefold  harmony 
Make  up  full    consort    to    the  ang^elic 
symphony. 

— MlLTOM. 


LNIVERSITV  WO.MKN 

NO  doubt  a  good  many  Canadians 
will  be  surprised  to  learn  that 
Toronto,  although  a  comparatively 
small  city,  boasts  no  less  than  338 
women  taking  a  university  course  in 
the  four  universities  open  to  them.  Of 
these.  University  College,  of  course, 
claims  the  largest  number,  189  women, 
including  the  36  taking  only  selected 
studies,  being  on  its  register;  43  have 
come  in  this  year. 

Victoria  follows  with  100  women — 
one-third  of  its  attendance.  This  year 
26  new  students  commence  their  uni- 
versity work  here,  and  make  their 
home  at  Annesley  Hall,  the  fine  ladies' 
residence  of  the  college. 


McMaster  follows  with  26  women, 
9  in  the  first  year,  and  all  embued  with 
as  ardent  a  class  spirit  as  their  brothers. 

Then  comes  Trinity  with  23  resident 
women  students  and  9  non-resident. 
The  women  of  Trinity  also  have  their 
college  home,  St.  Hilda's. 

Some  observation  of  these  univer- 
sity women  shows  that,  contrary  to  the 
views  held  by  many  objectors  to  higher 
education  for  women,  their  health  is 
far  better  than  that  enjoyed  by  their 
stay-at-home  sisters.  Their  class 
standing   is  good,  and  a  number  are 


FIG.    5 

special  mathematicians,  although  their 
best  work  seems  to  lie  in  the  lan- 
guages. B.  J.  T. 

m 

THE    NATIONAL   COUNCIL   OF 
WOMEN 

THE  eleventh  annual  meeting  of  the 
National  Council  of  Women,  held 
recently  in  Winnipeg,  was  attended  by 
delegates  from  furthest  east  and 
from  furthest  west.  Its  representative 
character  was  illustrated  the  first 
morning.     A  delegate   from   St.  John 


184 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


(N.B.)  enquired  of  another  lady  the 
way  into  Manitoba  College,  the  place 
of  meeting.  "Why,"  returned  the 
second  lady,  "  I  was  just  waiting  to 
ask  you  that  question.  I  have  just 
arrived  from  Victoria." 

The  main  work  of  the  National 
Council,  aside  from  that  of  the  local 
councils,  is  carried  on  by  standing 
committees.  Each  standing  com- 
mittee consists  of  a  convener  elected 
by  the  council  and  a  member  appointed 
by  aach  local  council.  All  the  feder- 
ated societies  form  the  local  councils. 
Naturally,  the  woman  most  interested 
in  the  subject  of  each  committee  is 
chosen  for  its  representative.  Thus  a 
chain  of  experts,  one  might  say,  is 
quickly  formed  from  ocean  to  ocean. 

During  the  year  the  work  of  these 
committees  is  carried  on  principally  by 
correspondence,  as  the  distance  is  too 
great  for  personal  intercourse. 

The  first  day  of  the  annual  session 
of  the  Council  is  always  devoted  to 
meetings  of  the  committees,  and  a 
very  busy  time  it  is.  Two  committees 
sit  at  the  same  time  in  separate  halls, 
and  the  meetings  succeed  each  other 
promptly  as  advertised. 

A  wide  scope  of  work  is  undertaken 
by  the  Council — "The  Promotion  of 
Industrial  and  Fine  Arts,"  "  The  Care 
of  the  Aged  and  Infirm  Poor,"  "Laws 
for  the  Better  Protection  of  Women 
and  Children,"  "  The  Care  of  Feeble- 
minded Women  of  Child-bearing  Age," 
"  Vacation  Schools  and  Supervised 
Playgrounds,"  "Agriculture  for  Wo- 
men," "Women  on  School  Boards," 
"  Immigration,"  etc. 

Through  these  committees  reliable 
information  is  quickly  gathered  as  to 
the  needs,  laws  and  conditions  of  the 
different  institutions  in  the  Provinces. 
Where  improvement  can  be  gained  by 
amendment  of  these  laws  or  changes 
of  these  conditions  the  work  is 
promptly  taken  in  hand.  The  work  of 
the  committees,  however,  is  largely 
that  of  educating  public  opinion. 

Reports  from  the  committees  are 
received  at  several  of  the  Council  ses- 
sions and  generally  prove  to  be  of 
great  interest  to  the  workers. 


The  first  evening  meeting  this  year 
was  devoted  to  "The  Promotion  of 
Industrial  and  Fine  Arts,"  Mrs.  Peck, 
of  the  Woman's  Art  Association,  Mon- 
treal, giving  a  clever  paper  on  the  "De- 
velopment of  Arts  and  Handicrafts." 
The  chairman  of  the  evening  was 
Bishop  Matheson,.  and  addresses  were 
given  on  the  "Various  Aspects  of  Art" 
by  Prof.  Kilpatrick,  Rev.  Dr.  Bryce 
and  "  Ralph  Connor."  Music  was 
also  provided,  and  altogether  it  was  a 
very  delightful  evening.  At  the  sec- 
ond evening  session  the  Mayor  of 
Winnipeg  was  in  the  chair,  and  the 
subject  of  the  papers  and  addresses 
was  "  Education."  Miss  Derick,  of 
McGill  University,  spoke  interestingly 
of  "Modern  Experiments  in  Educa- 
tion." Mrs.  Boomer  of  London,  who 
is  a  great  favourite  with  all,  discussed 
what  is  thought  by  her  local  council  to 
be  the  evil  of  too  much  home  study 
for  school  children.  A  report  prepared 
by  Mrs.  Hoodless,  of  Hamilton,  and 
read  in  her  absence  by  Mrs.  McEwen,  of 
Brandon,  seemed  to  favour  the  opinion 
that  the  work  thus  given  is  not  in  most 
cases  excessive.  An  address  was  also 
given  by  Rev.  Father  Drummond. 

Mrs.  Boomer  gave  one  of  her  bright 
addresses  on  "  Some  Women  Workers 
in  Great  Britain  "  at  the  third  even- 
ing meeting,  the  chair  being  taken  by 
the  Chief  Justice  of  Manitoba.  A 
second  paper  on  "Women  as  Citi- 
zens" was  given  by  Dr.  Augusta 
Stowe-Gullen,  and  Mrs.  Willoughby 
Cummings  described  the  recent  great 
quinquennial  meetings  of  the  Inter- 
national Council  in  Berlin,  Germany, 
where  nineteen  National  Councils  were 
represented  and  over  6,000  people 
were  in  constant  attendance. 

Space  will  not  permit  even  a  bare 
description  of  the  week  of  daily  meet- 
ings, over  which  the  President,  Mrs. 
Thomson,  presided  with  the  kindly 
tact  and  firmness  that  has  endeared 
her  to  her  fellow-workers.  She  gave 
a  concise  and  interesting  report  of  the 
business  sessions  of  the  great  Quin 
quennial. 

Mention  must  be  made,  however,  or 
a  series  of  short  papers  giving  valu- 


IVOMAN'S  SPHERE 


l8: 


able  information  on  the  existing  mar- 
riage laws  of  the  several  Provinces. 
These  differ  in  many  important  partic- 
ulars. In  Quebec,  for  example,  the 
marriage  of  a  boy  of  14  to  a  girl  of  12 
would  be  legal.  Mrs.  Edwards,  con- 
vener of  the  committee  on  "  Laws," 
has  prepared  a  pamphlet  containing  a 
synopsis  of  the  provincial  laws  affect- 
ing women  and  children,  and  will 
shortly  have  it  ready  for  distribution. 

As  usual,  we  were  entertained  with 
lavish  hospitality.  The  various  feder- 
ated societies  of  the  Winnipeg  local 
council  gave  delightful  luncheons  each 
day  and  bright,  brief  "after  dinner" 
speeches  were  quite  a  feature.  Lady 
McMillan  gave  an  At  Home  at  Gov- 
ernment House,  the  Mayor  and  City 
Council  gave  an  excursion  round  the 
city,  and  we  were  also  the  guests  of 
Lady  Schultz,  Mrs.  Rogers,  the 
Woman's  Art  Association  of  Winnipeg 
and  the  "  Ladies  of  the  Maccabees," 
who  gave  a  "pink  tea"  in  our  honour. 

Nor  are  these  social  functions  in 
connection  with  the  annual  meetings 
of  use  for  pleasure  only.  They  aflFord 
an  opportunity  to  the  delegates  for 
more  or  less  quiet  converse,  and  pro- 
mote acquaintance.  They  have  done 
much  to  further  the  common  bond  of 
sympathy,  and  have  helped  to  break 
down  provincialism  and  to  build  up 
national  sentiment  upon  the  basis  of 
truest  patriotism. 

Emily  Cummings. 

• 
VV.  C.  T.  U. 

THE  Ontario  W.  C.  T.  U.,  which 
met  at  Bowmanville  recently, 
strongly  reaffirmed  its  platform,  empha- 
sising its  unswerving  allegiance  to  the 
foundation  principles  upon  which  the 
society  rests,  namely:  total  abstinence 
on  the  part  of  the  individual  from 
everything  that  can  intoxicate  or  cre- 
ate an  appetite  for  intoxicants,  either 
in  food  or  drink;  also  the  entire  pro- 
hibition of  the  liquor  traffic  by  law; 
"  and  that  we  will  not  cease  our  efforts 
until  we  attain  this,  the  object  for 
which  we  were  organised  and  for  which 
we  exist." 


MRS.  ROBERT  THOMSON,    ST.    Jv>HN 

President  National  Council  of  Women 
of  Canada 


In  pursuance  of  the  position  taken 
by  the  L'nion,  namely,  that  "the 
Partyism  displayed  by  the  electorate 
was  and  is  the  most  serious  obstacle 
in  the  way  not  only  of  prohibition,  but 
all  other  moral  reforms  that  must 
achieve  success  by  way  of  the  halls  of 
legislature;  and  whereas,  we  have  de- 
clared that  while  men  were  responsible 
to  God  for  their  ballots,  women  were 
equally  so  for  their  influence,"  it  was 
resolved:  "That  we,  the  Ontario 
Woman'sChristian  Temperance  Union, 
do  affirm  that,  should  either  party  de- 
clare in  clear  and  unmistakable  terms 
that  they,  if  elected,  will  enact  such 
prohibitive  legislation  as  will  reduce 
the  liquor  traffic  to  a  minimum,  it  will 
be  not  only  our  duty,  but  our  pleasure, 
to  promote  by  every  means  within  our 
power,  the  election  of  such  party." 

The  Union  also  passed  a  resolution 
condemning  the  dispensary. 


B.  /.   T. 


HE  slow  and  steady  rumble 
of  time  still  sounds  in  our 
ears  and  warns  us  that  the 
days  of  1904  are  drawing 
to  a  close.  Soon,  too  soon, 
the  tale  will  be  told.  The  peoples  ot 
the  world  must  answer  in  eternity  for 
another  year  of  opportunity. 

There  has  been  much  sunshine  this 
year.  Glancing  round  the  broad  sur- 
face of  the  earth,  and  considering  the 
happenings,  one  must  confess  to  a 
feeling  of  optimism.  True,  the  Rus- 
sians and  the  Japanese  have  been 
creating  numberless  widows  and  or- 
phans, and  carrying  on  as  bloody  and 
as  inhuman  a  conflict  as  has  been 
since  the  world  began,  but  such 
things  must  be  for  yet  a  little  while. 
Down  in  central  Africa  the  King  of  the 
Belgians  still  tortures  and  enslaves 
the  black  races  of  the  Congo  Free 
State — and  no  nation  dares  to  say  him 
nay.  There  are  small  wars  here  and 
there  where  the  audacious  white  races 
slowly  force  their  way  through  rob- 
bery to  possession.  Yet,  compared 
with  other  years,  the  world  has  be- 
haved itself  fairly  well. 


"And  on  earth,  peace,  good  will  totvard  men." 

THE  continent  of  North  America 
continues  to  make  progress — 
greater  progress,  indeed,  than  any 
other  part  of  the  world  in  industry,  in 
invention,  in  commerce,  in  education, 
in  knowledge  and  in  (perhaps)  moral- 
ity. The  ships  from  the  North  Amer- 
ican ports  are  steadily  increasing  in 
number;  and  whereas  they  once  went 
only  West,  they  now  go  West  and 
East.     The    currents    of    trade    from 

186 


Europe  to  Asia  once  set  overland  via 
the  valley  of  the  Volga,  still  later  via 
the  Mediterranean  and  the  Red  Sea; 
to-day  some  of  those  currents  flow 
across  the  Atlantic,  the  North  Ameri- 
can continent  and  the  Pacific.  Europe 
joins  hands  with  Asia  by  means  of  the 
North  American  railways. 

Electrical  development  proceeds  in 
its  wonderfully  majestic  way.  The 
great  water-powers  are  being  steadily 
harnessed,  and  North  America  is  be- 
coming a  fairyland  of  comlort  and 
light.  The  motor-car  flashes  along 
the  roadways,  indicating  fresh  possi- 
bilities in  transportation  and  pleasure. 
The  farmer  takes  the  electric-car"'to 
town  for  his  morning  paper,  or  tele- 
phones for  his  roast  of  fresh  beef. 
The  men  of  New  York  converse  with 
those  of  Chicago,  Toronto  and  Mon- 
treal without  leaving  their  comfort- 
able office  chairs. 

The  fruitful  lands  of  this  continent 
are  being  brought  under  the  persistent 
attention  of  the  man  who  sees  wheat 
growing  yellow  even  in  his  dreams. 
The  arable  lands  of  the  Northern  Mis- 
sissippi valley  having  been  filled  up, 
the  human  tide  flows  farther  north, 
from  the  Land  of  the  Great  Eagle  to 
the  Land  of  the  Little  Beaver.  The 
old,  old  emigrations  are  being  rehearsed 
for  the  benefit  of  a  modern  audience. 


"Our  hearts  are  free  as  the  rivers  that  flow 

In  the  seas  where    the  north  star  shines, 

Our  lives  are  as  free  as  the  breezes  that  bknt 

Through  the  crests  of  our  native  pines." 


T^HE  most   remarkable   development 

^       of  the  year   is   undoubtedly  that 

of  the  Western  farming  districts.    This 


PEOPLE  AND  AFFAIRS 


187 


is  especially  true  when  it  is  considered 
that  where  agricultural  development 
leads  all  others  follow  right  speedily. 
During  the  past  three  years  the 
butcher,  the  baker  and  the  candle- 
stick maker  have  been  following  the 
new  farmer  so  fast  that  they  have 
almost  trod  on  his  heels.  The  law- 
yer, the  doctor  and  the  insurance 
agent  are  not  far  behind,  but  they  pre- 
fer to  wait  until  the  Builder  of  Rail- 
ways has  pushed  his  steel  arms  into 
the  new  communities.  How  the  Builder 
of  Railways  has  worked  for  the  Cana- 
dian Pacific  and  the  Canadian  North- 
ern, and  how  he  has  talked  for  the 
Grand  Trunk  Pacific!  Next  year  he 
will  work  for  all  three. 

This  wonderful  northern  develop- 
ment must  make  the  Frost  King  shake 
his  head  in  despair.  His  trenches 
are  being  rushed  one  after  the  other, 
his  solitudes  invaded,  his  dominions 
narrowed.  It  would  almost  seem  as 
if  the  tide  of  immigration  would  push 
back  the  Arctic  Circle  until  it  becomes 
a  mere  finger-ring  for  the  Man  of  the 
North  Pole. 


Oil .  f  the  Northern  Zont, 

Where  the  mapUs  their  branches  toss. 

The  Great  Bear  rides  in  his  state  alone. 
A/a r /mm  the  Southern  Cross." 


IT  is  good  for  us  to  know  that  we 
are  making  progress,  that  our 
people  are  increasing  in  number,  that 
our  trade  at  home  and  our  commerce 
abroad  are  taxmg  the  energies  of  our 
sons.  Confidence  is  good  when  based 
on  knowledge,  and  confidence  begets 
ambition,  ambition  begets  energy, 
and  energy  begets  success.  Let  us 
haste  in  our  work  that  all  the  world 
may  know  that  the  most  fertile  and 
most  progressive  part  of  the  British 
Empire  is  on  the  North  American  con- 
tinent. 

"  Our  pride  0/  race  we  have  not  lost. 
And  aye  it  is  our  lo/tiest  boast 

That  -we  are  Britons  still! 
And  in  the  gradual  lapse  0/ years 
We  look,   that    neath  these  distant  skits 


Another  England  shall  arise — 

A  noble  scion  0/  the  old- 
Still  to  herself  and  lineage  true. 

And  prising  honour  more  than  gold. 


DURING  this  year  there  has  been  a 
General  Election,  one  of  those 
dreadful  inventions  made  on  the  sup- 
position that  men  are  wise  and  good. 
The  result  was  inevitable  under  the 
circumstances,  and  Sir  Wilfrid  Laurier 
has    received    an     endorsement    fully 


KING    EDWARD    VII 

Who  celebrated  his  63rd   Birthday 
last  month 


1 88 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


equal  to  any  given  to  Sir  John  A. 
Macdonald.  It  is  to  be  hoped  that  he 
and  those  who  have  the  honour  to  be 
with  him  at  the  national  council-board 
will  use  their  power  wisely,  so  that 
posterity  may  call  them  blessed. 

The  Toronto  Globe  in  a  recent 
splendid  editorial  says:  "  There  is  a 
type  of  man  in  both  political  parties 
who  regards  politics  as  altogether  out- 
side the  pale  of  morality."  This  is 
too  true.      On  the  one  side  are 

Honesty,  Purity,  Courage, 

and  on  the  other  side  are 

Wealth,  Office,  Power, 

and  the  politician  is  no  worse  than  the 
stock-broker,  the  charter-monger,  the 
lobbyist,  the  government-contractor, 
and  the  crowd  of  greedy  cormorants 
who  furnish  the  rake-offs  which  cor- 
rupt the  politicians  and  the  electors. 
The  want  of  morality  is  not  confined 
to  the  political  worker.  It  is  to  be 
found  occasionally  in 

Newspaper  Proprietors, 
Financial  Magnates, 
Industrial  Kings, 
Society  Leaders 

and  others.  Besides,  there  are  mem- 
bers of  Parliament,  yea,  of  the  Privy 
Council,  who  have  even  been  guilty  of 
habitual  immoralities  and  excesses. 

Canada  is  no  worse,  perhaps,  than 
any  other  country  as  far  as  average 
citizenship  is  concerned,  but  in  Great 
Britain  they  demand  a  higher  standard 
of  private  and  business  morality  in 
their  public  men.  What  this  country 
needs  is  less  moral  preaching  and 
more  moral  practice,  less  seeking  after 
sudden  notoriety  and  quickly- acquired 
wealth  and  more  desire  for  solid  citi- 
zenship. Let  us  make  leaders  in  poli- 
tics and  social  life  only  of  those  men 
who  will  be  models  for  our  sons  and 
daughters.    Let  us  cast  out  the  lepers. 

"  Crush  out  the  jest  of  idle  minds 

That  knoiv  not,  jesting,  ivhen  to  hush; 


Keep  on  our  lips  the  word  that  binds, 
And  teach  our  children  when  to  blush." 


THERE  is  another  point  to  which  it 
may  not  be  amiss  to  call  atten- 
tion at  this  Christmas  season.  The 
reading  matter  provided  for  our  chil- 
dren should  not  be  anti-national. 

A  visitor  to  the  Y.M.C.A.  at  Mid- 
land, the  other  day,  found  twenty-one 
United  States  publications  in  the 
reading  room  and  not  one  British  or 
Canadian  periodical.  Saddest  of  all, 
the  best  of  United  States  periodicals 
were  not  there — only  the  slops.  And 
to  a  greater  or  less  extent  this  is  true 
of  nearly  all  the  reading  rooms  in  the 
English-speaking  portion  of  Canada. 
The  best  periodicals  of  the  world  are 
not  found  there. 

This  is  a  matter  which  the  preachers 
and  teachers  of  each  town  might  well 
consider.  They  are  supposed  to  be 
the  intellectual  leaders,  but  they  have 
been  sadly  neglecting  their  duty  in  this 
respect.  Our  reading-rooms  are  sup- 
plied with  the  veriest  trash,  and  the 
Canadian  boy  is  not  filled  with  a 
knowledge  of  Canadian  and  British 
history  or  of  Canadian  and  British 
ideals. 

In  the  same  way  the  cheapest  and 
most  sensational  novels  published  in 
the  United  States  will  be  found  in  the 
public  and  private  libraries  of  this 
country.  Parents  buy  this  trash  for 
their  children,  teachers  buy  it  for  their 
pupils,  librarians  buy  it  for  their 
patrons.  It  is  wrong,  cruelly  wrong, 
tor  there  are  plenty  of  good  Canadian 
books,  good  British  books,  even  good 
United  States  books.  The  department 
store  and  the  bookseller  cannot  be 
charged  wholly  with  this  sad  state  of 
affairs,  for  they  deal  in  those  articles 
which  are  in  demand.  The  blame  lies  at 
the  door  of  the  men  and  women  of  edu- 
cation in  each  community.  The  great 
power  of  the  library  and  the  reading- 
room  in  the  moulding  of  manly  char- 
acter and  in  the  development  of  good 
citizenship  cannot  safely  be  overlooked 
by  any  people. 

John  A.    Cooper 


RewBo 


More  is  got  from  one  book  on  which 
the  thought  settles  for  a  definite  end  in 
knowledge  than  from  libraries  skimmed 
over  by  a  wandering  eye.  A  cottage 
floToer  gives  honey  to  the  bee,  a  kin^s 
garden  none  to  the  butterfly. — Btilwer 
Lytton. 

ANIMAL   STORIES. 

PRNEST  THOMPSON  SETOX 
*-^  gives  us  of  his  genius  in  small 
parcels.  His  latest  book  contains  about 
30,000  words  as  compared  with  70,000 
in  Roberts'  "  Watchers  of  the  Trail." 
M  r.  Seton's  book  has  one  hundred  draw- 
ings, whereas  Mr.  Roberts*  volume  has 
but  sixty;  yet  of  the  one  hundred,  only 
eight  are  full-page,  while  of  the  sixty, 
forty-seyen  are  given  the  limit  of 
space.  Thus  economically  Mr.  Se- 
ton's book  is  worth  about  one-third  the 
price  of  Mr.  Roberts'.  Mr.  Seton's 
book  is  a  high  price  because  the  author 
believes  in  introducing  his  productions 
in  good  clothing,  giving  in  quality  what 
they  lack  in  quantity.  "  Monarch,  the 
Big  Bear,"  *  is  a  splendidly  dramatic 
story  and  is  well  worth  reading.  Still, 
with  all  its  beautiful  type,  nice  paper 
and  artistic  ink  blotches,  one  cannot 
but  feel  that  the  public  seeking  a  good 
book-investment  will  pass  it  over.  As 
a  Christmas  present  for  a  dainty 
maiden  with  artistic  bent,  it  will  be 
quite  suitable;  but  if  similar  presents 
are  required  for  strong,  healthy  boys,  I 
should  recommend  "  The  Watchers  of 
the  Trail"  and  "The  Kindred  of  the 
Wild,"  which  are  uniformly  bound. 
Every  Christmas  present  of  books 
should  be  suited  to  the  recipient. 

What  Seton  and  Roberts  have  been 
doing  with  the  North  American    ani- 

*Toronto:  Morang  &  Co.  Illustrated  by 
Grace  Gallatin  Seton.     2i5pa^es.    Si.25net. 


mals,  what  Kipling  did  with  the 
"White  Seal,"  Frank  T.  Bullen  has 
done  with  such  creatures  as  the  Sperm 
Whale,  the  Walrus,  Shark,  Turtle,  AI- 
bacore.  Dolphin  and  other  "  Denizens 
of  the  Deep."*  In  his  introduction  he 
speaks  of  the  "pleasant  practice  of 
certain  writers "  of  adding  to  the 
knowledge  of  Natural  History  with  the 
•intimate  personal  details"  of  wild 
animals.  He  adds:  "  I  now  essay  a 
series  of  lives  of  some  Denizens  of  the 
Deep,  based  very  largely  on  personal 
observation,  buttressed  by  scientific 
facts  and  decorated  by  imagination. 
I  well  know  how  ambitious  the  task  is, 
but  I  feel  that  I  have  some  small  qual- 
ifications for  the  work,  and  I  know, 
too,  how  much  room  there  is  for  a 
book  of  the  kind."  His  method  differs 
considerably  from  that  of  Kipling, 
Seton  and  Roberts,  but  the  result  is 
equally  interesting  and  readable.  The 
splendid  illustrations  are  by  Mr.  Bull, 
who  illustrated  Mr.  Roberts'  volumes. 


CANADIAN  POETRY. 

IT  can  scarcely  be  denied  that  the 
production  of  poetry  is  almost  at  a 
standstill.  This  is  a  good  sign.  It 
shows  that  the  publishers  and  the  pub- 
lic are  more  critical,  while  the  review- 
ers are  less  ecstatic  than  formerly. 
The  country  is  getting  sense  and  a 
judicial  spirit. 

"Between  the  Lights,"!  by  Isabel 
Eccleston  Mackay,  is  a  collection  of 
magazine  verse  which  should  be  pleas- 
ing to  a  section  of  the  public.  The 
author  is  not  a  great  poet,  does  not 
pretend  to  rise  to   great   flights;    yet 

•New  York  and  Toronto:    Fleminjf  H.  Rev- 
ellCo.    Cloth,  422  pages.    Illustrated.    $1.75. 
tToronto:  \Vm.  Briggs.     Cloth,  65  pages. 


I  go 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


this  little  volume  contains  many  pretty 
pictures,  many  beautiful  thoughts  and 
some  delightful  fancy.  '*  Inheritance," 
"The  Forlorn  Hope"  and  "A  Sea 
Song "  are  perhaps  the  strongest 
pieces ;  the  latter  is  beautifully  musical, 
while  the  two  former  touch  upon  the 
great  unconsidered  principles  of  life. 

"  Poems,"*  by  James  A.  Tucker,  is 
slightly  handicapped  by  its  title  and  its 
preface ;  but  as  a  memorial  of  a 
singer  who  passed  away  ere  he  had 
fully  developed,  it  must  ever  have  a 
permanent  place  in  our  literature. 
James  A.  Tucker's  battle  for  the  eman- 
cipation of  the  students  of  the  Univer- 
sity of  Toronto  will  always  be  to  his 
credit,  though  he  suffered  the  fate  of 
most  leaders  of  rebellions  which  are 
necessarily  short  lived.  Nevertheless, 
he  taught  the  aristocrats  of  that  insti- 
tution a  salutary  lesson.  He  had 
a  keen  appreciation  of  the  true  value 
of  things,  of  principles,  of  words,  of 
thoughts,  and  with  genuine  poetic 
instinct  sought  to  embalm  that  ap- 
preciation in  verse.  He  loved  his 
Canada,  and  when  banished  by  the 
University  tyrants  from  Toronto  to 
California,  he  sang: 

"No,    mid  this  lavish,  rare  display 
Of  nature's  bounties  rich  and  free, 
My  heart,  dear  country,  turns  to  thee 
In  love  this  winter's  day; 

And  would  not  g^ive  one  foot  of  thy 
Rude  soil,  one  white  December  blast, 
For  all  these  valleys,  verdant,  vast, 

For  all  this  lang^uid  sky! 

These  make  not  nations  ;  only  hearts 
Strong  as  the  basal  rocks,  and  pure 
As  limpid  northern  streams,  endure 

When  all  else  sinks  and  parts. 


Pray,  therefore,  for  true  men  and  strong — 
Men  who  would  dare  to  die  for  right; 
Who    love    and  court  God's  searching 
light 

Because  they  shield  no  wrong." 

|!!JjAnother  memorial  volume  is  entitled 
*' Robert  Elliott's  Poems, "t  which  is 
edited  by  John  Dearness  and  Frank 
Lawson     and     published     under     the 

'Toronto :  Wm.  Briggs.  Cloth,  133  pages. 
fLondon,  Ont. :      Lawson  &  Jones.     Cloth, 
*o5  pages. 


auspices  of  the  Baconian  Club  of 
London,  Ont.  This  farmer-naturalist- 
poet  seems  to  have  had  a  wide  circle 
of  friends  who  knew  of  his  love  of 
nature  and  his  habit  of  putting  his 
thoughts  into  verse,  although  few  of 
these  found  their  way  into  print  during 
his  lifetime.  The  Fanners'  Advocate 
published  some  of  them,  but  the 
general  literary  public  know  little  of 
the  quiet  poet  of  Plover  Mills.  His 
work,  however,  is  worthy  of  preserva- 
tion and  of  study.  Some  of  it  is  imma- 
ture, but  some  of  it  has  a  fire  which 
radiates.  His  longest  poem,  "  The 
Axe  and  the  Spinning  Wheel,"  is  a 
tribute  to  farming  life  and  its  national 
influence,  and  surpasses  anything  of 
the  kind  with  which  the  reviewer  is 
acquainted. 

BV   THE   QUEEN'S   GRACE 

CIR  GILBERT  PARKER  has  been 
^  accused  of  making  Queen  Eliza- 
beth overshadow  the  hero  and  heroine 
of  his  latest  novel  instead  of  keeping 
her  in  the  background,  seeing  that  it 
was  not  primarily  her  fate  which  is  his 
theme.  In  her  new  novel,  "  By  The 
Queen's  Grace,"  Virna  Sheard  also  in- 
troduces Queen  Elizabeth,  but  the 
same  charge  cannot  be  fairly  made 
against  this  newer  and  less  experi- 
enced novelist.  The  Virgin  Queen, 
her  Court,  her  whims,  her  character- 
istics, are  pictured  in  bright  colours, 
but  the  fate  of  the  lovers  is  not  made 
dependent  entirely  upon  her  will  or 
action.  To  Virna  Sheard's  art  this  is 
a  great  compliment.  A  further  com- 
parison of  the  books  might  not  be 
wholly  to  her  advantage,  however, 
even  if  it  were  fair,  which  it  would 
not  be. 

"By  The  Queen's  Grace"*  is  the 
elaboration  of  a  story  which  first  ap- 
peared in  The  Canadian  Magazine 
under  the  title  **  The  Lily  of  London 
Bridge."  Instead  of  having  Joyce 
drown  herself  because  her  father 
desires  her  to  marry  a  man  whom  she 
does  not  love,  the  author  makes  her 


♦Toronto:  William    Briggs. 
trated. 


Cloth.     Illus- 


ABOUT  NEW  BOOKS 


191 


fly  to  Queen  Elizabeth  for 
succour.  Because  of  a  ring 
given  this  daughter  of  the 
toll-gate  keepier  of  London 
Bridge,  the  Queen  interests 
herself  in  the  case  and  pro- 
vides her  with  shelter.  For 
ten  years  she  serves  the 
Queen  well  and  faithfully  as 
a  Maid  of  Honour,  until 
such  time  as  her  true  lover 
returns  to  Court  to  find 
her  whom  he  believed  to 
have  been  dead  these  many 
years. 

It  is  a  delightful  story, 
proving  the  author's  grow- 
ing strength,  her  great  abil- 
ity as  a  builder  of  drama 
and  her  charm  as  a  racont- 
eur of  thrilling  tales.  Noth- 
ing could  be  more  suitable 
for  a  present  for  a  young 
girl  than  this  beautiful  story 
of  womanly  patience,  brav- 
ery and  devotion. 


DOCTOR   LUKE 

NORMAN    DUNCAN    is  ^ 

not  as  well  known 
to  his  fellow-Canadians 
as  he  should  be.  His  success  has 
been  won  on  the  New  York  papers 
and  magazines,  but  he  has  not  yet  re- 
nounced his  Canadian  citizenship. 
His  new  book,  '*  Doctor  Luke  of  the 
Labrador,"*  is  not  a  Canadian  book 
in  the  narrow  sense,  though  many 
people  regard  that  part  of  the  Gulf  of 
St.  Lawrence  bordering  on  Labrador 
as  Canadian  territorial  waters.  Yet  it 
deals  with  a  form  of  human  endeavour 
and  a  phase  of  activity  which  the  peo- 
ple of  this  country  thoroughly  under- 
stand. It  is  doubtful  if  the  dreadful 
isolation  of  those  who  labour  by  the 
sea  in  that  remote  region  has  been 
fully  realised  even  here.  *'  Doctor 
Luke "  will  change  all  that.  The 
optimism  of  the  husband  who  prom- 
ises his  sick  wife  that  he  will  call  m 
the  doctor  when  he  next  reaches  there 

•Toronto    and    New    York:     Fleminff    H. 
Revel!  Co.     Illustrated.     327  pagfes.     $1.50. 


AGNBS  C.    LAI  r 
kuthor  of  "  Pathfinders  of  the  Wi-si 

PROM    HBK    LATBST   POST  RAIT 

in  the  mail-boat,  six  months  hence, 
seems  at  once  so  awful  and  so  pa- 
thetic that  henceforth  the  people  of 
Labrador  must  have  our  sympathy. 
We  are  all  subjects  of  one  earthly 
king,  one  Heavenly  King,  and  why 
should  we  not  feel  for  them  ?  Our 
missionary'  societies  send  succour  to 
India  and  China  and  Japan,  and  why 
not  to  Labrador,  where  medical  at- 
tendance and  religious  solace  are 
almost  unknown  ?  Are  white  men  of 
less  consequence  than  yellow  or  black? 
Mr.  Duncan  may  not  have  intended  to 
preach  to  Canada,  but  he  has  certainly 
brought  home  to  us  our  lack  of  sym- 
pathy with  those  who,  but  for  New- 
foundland's obstinacy,  might  be  citi- 
zens of  the  Dominion. 

The  story  is  of  mother-love,  pa- 
thetic, dramatic,  realistic — the  most 
powerful  novel  written  by  a  Canadian 
during     1904,     perhaps    during  many 


192 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


years.  Mr.  Duncan  spent  three  sum- 
mers in  that  region  and  obtained  his 
realism  as  Kipling  obtains  his.  He 
has  put  his  finger  into  the  wound  and 
is  convinced.  What  he  has  seen  he 
has  treated  as  the  great  dramatist  or 
the  great  painter  would  treat  it,  and 
has  thus  proved  himself  to  possess 
genius.  For  this  magnificent  story  we 
thank  him,  and  are  proud. 


GRUESOME   PICTURES. 

SOME  readers  may  remember  our 
opinion  that  "  The  Foss  River 
Ranch,"*  by  Ridgwell  Cullum,  was  an 
unnatural  picture  of  Western  life. 
This  accomplished  actor-writer  has 
given  the  public  another  story  with 
scenes  laid  in  the  Yukon  and  Manitoba, 
under  the  title  "The  Hound  from  the 
North."  Again  he  has  painted  an 
unholy  and  forbidding  picture,  with 
characters  most  repulsive  and  unlovely. 
Why  this  man  should  glory  in  depict- 
ing wickednesses  which  are  so  odd  as 
to  be  almost  unreal  is  more  than  the 
mind  of  the  average  man  is  able  to 
solve.  Canadians  would  do  well  to 
keep  this  book  out  of  their  libraries. 
The  language  is  more  often  English 
than  Canadian,  for  example:  "book- 
ing-office "  instead  of  "ticket-office." 

Anthony  Hope's  "Double  Harness"* 
is  another  unpleasant  book  and  one 
unfit  to  be  given  to  youthful  readers. 
It  is  a  series  of  descriptions  of  the 
domestic  quarrels  of  three  or  four  ill- 
mated  pairs  who  have  not  learned  that 
the  success  of  married  life  depends 
upon  mutual  forbearance,  concession 
and  sympathy.  It  is  a  series  of  revolt- 
ing and  sickening  scenes  from  lives 
devoid  of  common  sense,  culture, 
religion  or  high  moral  sense — yet 
people  prominent  in  London  society. 
If  those  members  of  the  latter  who  are 
well-behaved  do  not  resent  this  attack 
upon  them,  they  have  little  spirit. 

"Whosoever  Shall  OflFend,"*  by 
Marion  Crawford,  is  of  similar  mate- 
rial. An  unpunished  murderer  from 
South  America  marries  a  rich  woman 
in  Rome,  and  is  kind   to  her  and   her 

'Toronto:  The  Copp,  Clark  Co. 


son.  But  the  old  cupidity  asserts 
itself — the  wife  is  killed,  and  the  son 
almost  so.  Later  on  there  are  other 
murders  and  horrible  deaths.  It  is  a 
fascinating  story — but  the  sort  of  fas- 
cination that  the  snake's  eye  has  for 
the  doomed  songster  of  the  woods.  All 
the  vices  of  modern  high  society  are 
passed  in  review — proving  that  modern 
fiction  is  as  bad  as  the  modern  stage. 
There  are  some  scenes  in  "The 
Prodigal  Son,"*  by  Hall  Caine,  which 
are  also  done  in  high  colours,  but  Hall 
Caine  was  never  in  the  Anthony  Hope 
class.  This  new  Icelandic  story  is 
bright,  powerful  and  understandable. 
Its  characters  have  emotions,  feelings, 
thoughts  that  are  familiar;  they  are 
men  and  women,  not  stage  puppets. 
Magnus  Stephenson  is  a  man  worth 
studying — for  he  faces  the  problems 
and  disappointments  of  life  with  an 
unflinching  eye  and  heroic  mien. 


NOTES 

"Love  finds  the  Way,"  by  Paul 
Leicester  Ford,  is  issued  in  artistic 
form  for  the  holiday  season  by  the 
Copp,  Clark  Co.  The  illustrations  are 
by  Harrison  Fisher.  This  is  one  of 
the  notable  productions  for  those 
interested  in  beautiful  editions. 

"Children  of  the  Poorest,"  byEgerton 
R.  Young,  is  a  story  of  Indian  love. 
Mr.  Young  knows  his  Indian,  and  his 
colouring  may  be  depended  upon.  The 
same  compliment  cannot  be  paid  to 
his  illustrator.  (Toronto  :  Fleming  H. 
Revell  Co.) 

"  My  Memory  of  Gladstone,"  by 
Prof.  Goldwin  Smith,  is  a  little  volume 
of  88  pages,  and  one  worthy  of  a 
half-hour's  study,  either  for  its  style 
or  its  matter.  (Toronto :  Wm.  Tyrrell 
&Co.) 

"Careers  for  the  Coming  Men,"  by 
Whitelaw  Reid  and  others,  is  a  series 
of  essays  by  leading  publicists  of  the 
U.S.  The  subjects  are  23  in  number, 
such  as  railroading,  journalism,  bank- 
ing, authorship,  architecture  and  law. 
(Akron,  Ohio:  Saalfeld  Pub.  Co.) 

•Toronto:  Morang  &  Co.     Cloth,  $1.50. 


ABOUT  NEW  BOOKS 


>93 


"Come  and  see  the  roses,  Jess" 

ILLl'SI  RATION    FROM    '•JESS   &   CO." 


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194 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


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»^ 


omei2[s. 


t 


A  STORMY  PETREL 

THE  reason  that  Jim  McBurney 
caused  more  trouble  than  the 
ordinary  run  of  mankind  was  prob- 
ably due  to  the  fact  of  his  father  and 
mother  beings  Irish  Celts.  His  pur- 
posefulness  was  due  to  his  American 
birth  and  training. 

How  I  happened  to  first  meet  Mr. 
McBurney,  who  had  resigned  his  posi- 
tion as  foreman  on  a  drive  of  logs  on 
the  head  waters  of  the  Mississippi  on 
account  of  having  been  a  leading 
factor  in  the  lynching  of  a  wife-mur- 
derer in  a  Minnesota  town  a  few  weeks 
before,  was  that  he  enlisted  as  a  voy- 
ageur  on  the  Gordon  Relief  Expedition 
up  the  Nile  in   1884. 

James  told  me  he  never  could  thor- 
oughly understand  the  limitations  of 
the  Ashburton  Treaty  regarding  ex- 
tradition, and  he  guessed  the  Soudan 
with  an  ocean  and  a  desert  or  two  be- 
tween him  and  a  Minnesota  sheriff  was 
safer  than  Manitoba  separated  by  the 
49th  parallel  that  existed  only  in  geog- 
raphies and  statute  books. 

We  were  intimate  before  the  trans- 
port, The  Ocean  King,  reached  Gib- 
raltar, but  it  was  there  I  first  became 
really  acquainted  with  James'  marked 
penchant  for  trouble. 

A  couple  of  regiments  of  the  gar- 
rison at  Gibraltar  had  been  turned  out 
to  return  400  voyageurs,  who  had 
been  on  shore  leave  for  the  day,  safely 
on  board  the  Ocean  King.  After  in- 
finite trouble  we  had  been  returned 
without  any  more  serious  mishap  than 
a  few^  broken  heads. 

We  were  fairly  quiet  until  Jim  re- 
vived a  grievance  against  the  ship 
captain  for  omitting  to  give  us  a 
plum-duff  ration  three  days  before. 
The  captain  spent  the  remainder  of  the 


night  on  the  ship's  bridge  as  we  rode 
at  anchor  in  the  bay,  expostulating 
with  an  angry  mob,  of  which  Mr.  Mc- 
Burney was  the  leading  spokesman, 
and  at  intervals  informing  his  inter- 
viewers that  if  anyone  put  foot  on 
companion-way  or  rigging  to  get  near 
him  he  would  blow  someone's  brains 
out.  And  even  Mr.  McBurney  knew 
that  the  revolver  held  by  the  sturdy 
little  English  captain  was  held  for 
business. 

A  couple  of  instances  will  show  the 
curious  mixture  of  Irish  recklessness 
and  Yankee  shrewdness — the  utter 
disregard  of  possible  consequences  in 
proceeding  to  a  direct  reasonable 
conclusion  —  in  the  make-up  of  the 
man. 

Every  voyageur  on  the  Nile  in  that 
campaign  did  a  certain  amount  of 
looting  from  stores  to  supplement 
the  sparse  rations.  We  worked  hard, 
the  rations  were  insufficient  and,  as 
Mr.  McBurney  put  it,  "  I  guess  the 
British  Government  could  stand  it." 
But  James  stole  so  recklessly  from  the 
stores  in  his  boat  that  it  "  rode  light," 
We  were  on  the  return  trip,  the  object 
of  the  campaign  was  over,  Khar- 
toum had  fallen,  and  General  Gordon 
had  laid  down  his  life  for  his  country 
and  his  God,  and  there  was  little  left 
in  the  campaign  but  the  littleness  of 
militarism  and  its  petty  irritations  to 
the  civilian  voyageurs.  And  McBur- 
ney's  boat,  which  held  the  colonel  and 
adjutant  of  his  regiment,  floated  higher 
than  any  other  in  the  brigade,  and  day 
by  day  the  lines  of  petty  military  quib- 
bling and  punishment  were  drawn 
closer.  And  James  McBurney  was 
shrewd  enough  to  know  that  trouble 
awaited  somebody  when  it  was  learned 
that  half  the  boxes  in  his  boat  contained 


196 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


rocks    and    the    remainder    were  half- 
empty. 

At  the  great  cataract  of  Tanjour  the 
accident  that  wrecked  McBurney's 
boat  occurred  and  nearly  drowned  the 
colonel,  whom  McBurney  pulled  out  of 
the  raging  torrent  with  almost  the  loss 
of  his  own  life. 

"To  think  that  one  of  the  best  boat- 
men on  the  river  should  lose  his  boat 
at  the  tail  end  of  the  trip!"  said  some 
one  that  night  around  the  camp-fire. 

"  Say,  you  fellows,"  said  McBurney, 
looking  up  from  the  blanket  he  was 
rolled  in,  "did  ye  see  how  mighty 
high  them  boxes  floated?  If  ye 
did,  there's  not  much  thinkin'  to  be 
done." 

And  the  army  surgeons  reported 
next  morning  that  the  colonel  was 
gradually  reviving  strength. 

It  was  years  after  the  Nile  Expedi- 
tion that  I  again  met  McBurney.  He 
was  a  cowboy  in  Southern  Alberta, 
and  I  was  practising  law  in  Edmon- 
ton. We  met  in  Calgary.  He  had 
been  knocking  about  the  Western 
Cattle  States  and  the  Canadian  Terri- 
tories, and  when  I  asked  him  if  he 
ever  thought  of  coming  up  north,  he 
said  he  thought  he  might,  and  two 
weeks  after  he  turned  up  in  charge  of 
a  bunch  of  cattle.  He  was  paid  off, 
pursued  his  usual  practice,  which  his 
river-driving,  cattle-punching  life  had 
made  second  nature,  painted  the  town 
a  brilliant  vermilion,  and  in  a  few  days 
was  dead-broke. 

When  that  not  unusual  event 
occurred  it  was  in  the  middle  of  the 
assizes,  and  I  hadn't  any  time  to  de- 
vote to  James.  But  James  had  time, 
and  he  chose  the  most  opportune 
moment  of  it  to  make  one  final  strike 
to  enable  him  to  recuperate  his  finances 
and  leave  for  his  stamping-ground  in 
the  south. 

I  was  defending  a  young  woman 
charged  with  wounding  with  intent  to 
kill  a  man  while  he  was  breaking  in  the 
door  of  her  house.  The  case  gave 
every  opportunity  for  an  appeal  to  the 
chivalry  of  the  West — the  pathetic 
word  picture  of  the  loneliness  of  thegirl, 
her   unprotected,  friendless  condition, 


and  thedrunken  brutality  of  the  wounded 
man.  I  was  leading  up  gradually  to  an 
effective  peroration  when  I  heard  the 
familiar  voice  of  McBurney  whisper 
during  one  of  my  most  impressive 
pauses:  "Charlie,  I  say,  Charlie, 
could  I  speak  to  you  for  a  minute  ?" 
Even  dear,  old,  dignified  Judge  Rou- 
leau smiled,  and  the  cry  of  "  Silence" 
from  the  Sheriff  couldn't  restrain  the 
ripple  of  laughter  that  ran  along  the 
jury  box.  To  go  on,  with  the  danger 
of  that  appealing  "  Charlie"  from  the 
body  of  the  court-room  ever  present  in 
my  mind  would  spoil  whatever  feel- 
ings of  pity  and  mercy  I  hoped  to  be- 
get in  the  jury. 

I  stopped,  and  with  a  muttered 
apology  to  the  Judge,  who  quivered 
with  subdued  emotion,  stepped  to  the 
side  of  McBurney. 

"  What  is  it  ?     Confound  you,  Jim!" 

"  Say,  I  must  have  ten  dollars  to 
start  out  to  God's  country  at  sundown 
with!  Have  you  got  it  in  your  clothes? 
Don't  look  worried.  That  jury,  every 
mother's  son  of  them,  will  see  that 
girl  through  all  right  without  any  more 
eloquence.  The  boys  settled  that  'fore 
the  treat  begun.  Thanks,  pard.  So 
long.  I'm  off.  See  you  sometime 
again  and  give  you  the  X.  Any  way, 
it's  all   right  'tween  us    Nile   fellers." 

It's  all  right,  dear  old  Jim,  comrade 
of  many  hard  and  happy  days,  but 
will  it  be  all  right  with  me  if  you 
chance  to  read  this  story  ? 

C.  Z.  S. 
■ 

THE    MIDNIGHT    PROMENADE 

She — Henry! 

He— Huh? 

"Just  imagine  baby  is  one  of  those 
sick  frieiids  you  sit  up  all  night  with." 
— Harper's  Bazar. 


Father  (who  has    been    called   upon 
in  the  city    and  asked  for   his  daugh 
ters  hand — Louise,  do  you  know  what 
a  solemn  thing  it  is  to  be  married? 

Louise — Oh,  yes,  pa;  but  it  is  a 
good  deal  more  solemn  being  single. 
—Judy. 


THE    FIRST    HERO    OI 
MEDAL 


IHK    ALBERT 


THE  Albert  Medal,  as  most  people 
are  aware,  is  the  counterpart  of 
the  Victoria  Cross,  and  is  awarded  for 
distinguished  heroism  in  civil  life.  It 
is  not  generally  known  that  the  first 
mantoreceivethis  much  coveted  medal, 
and  the  only  man  to  receive  it  person- 
ally from  the  hands  of  Queen  Victoria, 
is  still  living  in  retirement  in  Ply- 
mouth, Devonshire,  in  the  person  of 
Mr.  Samuel  Popplestone,  a  retired 
Devonshire  farmer. 

The  circumstances  of  this  heroic 
deed  are  as  follows  :  On  the  23rd 
of  March,  1866,  during  a  terrific 
hurricane,  the  Spirit  of  the  Ocean^ 
a  barque  of  600  tons,  having  on 
board  a  crew  of  18  and  24  passen- 
gers, was  wrecked  off  Start  Point, 
on  the  Devonshire  coast.  Popple- 
stone, foreseeing  the  danger  of  the 
doomed  vessel,  despatched  a  mes- 
senger on  one  of  his  own  horses  to 
Tor  Cross  to  arouse  the  villagers, 
and  sent  another  messenger  to  warn 
the  coast-guards.  In  the  mean- 
time, however,  the  vessel  had  struck 
upon  the  rocks,  and  was  rapidly 
breaking  up.  Popplestone,  with  a 
small  'coil  of  rope  in  his  hand,  pro- 
ceeded nimbly  along  the  storm- 
swept  shore,  leaping  from  rock  to 
rock  "like  a  middle-aged  chamois." 
By  this  time  the  wind  was  blowing 
a  hurricane,  accompanied  by  a  blind- 
ing rain  and  a  very  heavy  and  dan- 
gerous sea.  While  standing  on  the 
rock  nearest  the  vessel,  endeavour- 
ing to  establish  communication,  the 
swirling  waters  washed  him  into 
the  sea;  but  by  a    supreme  effort, 


and  with  the  aid  of  a  returning  wave, 
he  succeeded  in  regaining  his  footing, 
and  in  this  position,  alone  and  unaided, 
succeeded  in  saving  the  lives  of  the 
male  and  one  of  the  crew. 

A  few  years  ago  the  writer  had  the 
pleasure  of  spending  a  few  days  with 
the  old  gentleman,  now  advanced  in 
years,  to  hear  him  modestly  recount 
the  story  of  his  adventure  from  his 
own  lips,  to  be  shown  the  medal,  and 
to  see  the  paintingof  Start  Point  and  the 
doomed  vessel,  hung  up  on  the  walls 
of  his  library. 

I  was  particularly  interested  in  the 


MR.   SAMUBL  POPPLESTONB 


igS 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


•YOUNG  NIGHTY  THOUGHTS" 

Mamma — "Here  comes  Nurse  to  bath  you  both  and  put  you  to 
bed.      Now  be  good  and  go  quickly." 

Little  Girl — "Oh  dear,  Mummie,  I  wish  I  was  a  Night- 
dress ! " 

Mamma — "Why,  dear?" 

Little  Girl — "Then  I  should  only  have  to  go  to  the   wash 


once  a  week  !  " 

account  of  his  reception  by  the  Queen 
on  the  occasion  of  his  receiving  the 
medal  at  her  hands.  "Her  Majesty," 
he  continued,  "pinned  the  medal  on  my 
coat,  and  told  me  in  a  few  words  how 
pleased  she  was  to  hear  of  my  action. 
I  had  prepared  a  little  speech  in  reply, 
but  I  had  simply  time  to  thank  Her 
Majesty,  and  to  say  that  I  would  be 
only  too  ready  to  act  in  the  same  way 
again  should  the  occasion  offer — when 
I  found  myself  backed  out  of  the  room 
by  the  two  officers  in  charge.  I  told  the 
officers  that  I  would  like  to  have  had 
a  few  words  with  Her  Majesty,  but 
they  replied  that  I  might  consider  my- 
self fortunate  to  have  had  a  chance  to 
speak  to  her  at  all."  And  the  old  gen- 
tleman smiled  in  evident  appreciation 
of  the  pleasant  recollection. 

^  s. 

A   PECULIAR   CASE 

"'T^HERE  is  a  young  man  in  Eng- 

-*■       land,"   says    The    Dietetic  and 

Hygienic  Gazette,  "who  at  the  age  of 

twenty-four  is  developing  at  the  rate 


-Punch 


of  only  one-sixth  of  the 
average  human  being. 
At  present  he  is  learn- 
ing his  alphabet  and 
can  count  up  to  ten 
only.  During  the  last 
nineteen  years  he  has 
eaten  but  three  meals 
a  week,  has  slept 
twenty-four  hours  and 
played  twenty-four 
hours,  without  the 
slightest  variation.  In 
spite  of  his  twenty- 
four  years  he  looks  no 
older  than  a  boy  of 
four  or  five  and  is  only 
thirty-six  inches  in 
height.  For  the  same 
period  his  develop- 
ment physically  and 
mentally  has  been  at 
only  one-sixth  the  or- 
dinary rate,  while  ab- 
solutely regular  and 
perfect  in  every  other 
way.  At  his  birth  this 
child  weighed  ten 
in  no  way  differed  from 
He  grew  and  thrived 


pounds  and 
any  other  child 
in  the  usual  way  until  he  attained  the 
age  of  five.  Then  his  progress  was 
suddenly  and  mysteriously  arrested, 
and  since  then  six  years  have  been 
the  same  to  him  as  one  year  to  the 
normal  person.  He  has  attracted  the 
attention  of  many  medical  and  scien- 
tific men,  more  than  one  of  whom 
has  expressed  the  conviction  that  this 
remarkable  man  will  live  to  be  no  less 
than  three  centuries  old." 


EMBALMED    IN 


GLASS 


"'T^HE  strangest,  weirdest  method 
-*■  of  embalming  ever  thought  of 
has  just  been  patented  by  a  Russian 
residing  in  New  York  State,"  says 
Popular  Mechanics.  "The  corpse  is 
to  be  encased  in  the  centre  of  a  solid 
block  of  pure  glass,  through  which  the 
features  and  outlines  of  the  body  will 
be  perfectly  visible.  As  no  air  can 
ever  possibly  enter,  the  remains  are  ex- 
pected to  be  preserved  for  centuries." 


CHRISTMAS 

HE  Christmas  season  should 
find  all  Canadian  business 
men  in  good  humour.  The 
trade  of  the  country  con- 
tinues "  the  forward  pol- 
icy "  which  it  has  so  long  maintained. 
Canadian  business  men  are  enjoying  a 
prosperity  unsurpassed  by  that  which 
favours  any  other  set  in  the  world. 


The  internal  trade  of  the  country  is 
increasing  by  leaps  and  bounds.  For 
this  statement  we  have  proof  in  the 
general  sentiment,  the  increase  in 
bank  clearings,  the  growth  in  railway 
traffic,  and  the  increase  in  the  number 
of  factories  and  wholesale  warehouses. 
Montreal  holds  its  own  as  leader  in 
both  internal  and  external  trade. 
Toronto  is  growing  steadily  and 
surely.  Winnipeg  is  progressing  al- 
most too  fast.  Edmonton,  Calgary, 
Vancouver,  Victoria  and  other  western 
towns  are  expanding  their  boundaries. 
There  is  no  standing  still  in  this  coun- 
try. The  man  who  finds  that  his 
business  is  stationary  naturally  thinks 
that  he  is  in  hard  luck,  or  that  his 
business  is  being  improperly  con- 
ducted. A  city  that  is  not  adding 
a  few  thousand  yearly  to  its  population 
is  the  exception,  and  would  soon  be 
noted  as  "  unprogressive. "  This  is 
one  ot  the  characteristics  which  dis- 
tinguishes American  from  European 
civilisation. 

Jt 

At  St.  Louis  the  exhibitors  of 
horses,  cattle  and  poultry  were  not 
numerous,  but  they  won  nearly  all  the 
prizes  for  which  they  entered.      Three- 


fifths  of  the  prize-money  for*  poultry, 
in  classes  where  there  were  exhibitors 
from  this  country,  was  won  by^Cana- 
dians. 

Canadian  flour,  maple  sugar,  honey, 
and  other  articles,  have  been  exhibited 
at  several  fairs  in  Great  Britain  this 
year,  and  the  trade  in  that  direction  is 
expanding  favourably.  Dublin  and 
Liege  are  to  have  similar  displays, 
through  the  excellent  system  which 
the  Canadian  Governmentjhas  adopted. 


Only  one-seventh  of  the  bacon  im- 
ported by  Great  Britain  during  the 
nine  months  ending  September^) 30th, 
came  from  Canada.  True,  our  bacon 
shipments  have  increased  from  450,000 
cwts.  in  1902  to  621,000  cwts.  in  1904 
(nine  months),  but  the  increase  is  as 
nothing  compared  with  the  possi- 
bilities. Denmark  and  the  United 
States  are  the  chief  sources  of  sup- 
ply now.  Canada  may  be  an  equal 
participant  in  the  future,  if  the  Gov- 
ernment does  its  duty  in  helping  our 
merchants  to  make  more  widely  known 
the  merits  of  our  bacon  products. 


Canada's  general  foreign  trade  is 
progressing.  Reciprocity,  along  cer- 
tain lines,  with  the  United  States 
would  increase  it.  For  example,  reci- 
procity in  coal  would  give  cheaper 
fuel  to  Ontario  and  the  West,  where 
the  duty  acts  as  a  tax;  it  would  also 
increase  the  exports  of  Nova  Scotia 
coal  to  the  New  England  States.  The 
general  result  would  be  increased  trade 
between  the  two  countries.     The  Ca- 


200 


THE^  CANADIAN  MAGAZiNE 


nadian  Government  now  collects  annu- 
ally about  two  million  dollars  from  the 
duty  on  United  States  coal.  This  two 
million  dollars  is  paid  by  Canadian 
consumers — Why?  Because  we  have 
coal  of  our  own  which  needs  protec- 
tion? No.  Simply  because  the  fiscal 
policy  of  this  continent  is  blind. 


On  November  3rd,  the  day  of  the 
Elections,  the  following  notice  was 
sent  out  from  Ottawa: 

Ottawa,  Nov.  3. — (Special.) — A  beginning- 
will  be  made  this  winter  with  the  Canadian 
naval  militia.  The  cruiser  Canada,  now  on 
the  Nova  Scotia  coast  watching  fishermen, 
will  make  a  school  cruise  instead  of  laying  up 
this  winter.  As  soon  as  the  American  fisher- 
men have  left  the  coast  the  Canada  will  take 
on  supplies,  and  men  will  be  drafted  from  the 
other  cruisers  to  take  the  course.  The  best 
men  will  be  selected  from  the  fishery  protec- 
tion service.  The  Canada  will  proceed  south 
with  about  ninety  men  and  spend  the  winter 
at  Bermuda  and  cruising  about  the  West 
Indies.  It  is  expected  the  men  will  be  those 
only  well  qualified  to  become  instructors  for 
naval  militia  schools,  as  the  permanent  force 
is  for  the  land  militia.  The  Canada,  which 
is  usually  a  third-class  cruiser  equal  to  any  of 
her  class  in  the  British  navy,  was  secured 
with  this  work  in  view. 

General  elections  are  useful  in  one 
respect,  they  bring  to  the  front  certain 
reforms  which  have  been  pigeon-holed 
by  an  inefficient  public  service.  This 
Naval  Militia  was  promised  several 
years  ago,  but  it  has  not  yet  come  into 
being  because  Canadian  Cabinet  min- 
isters are  often  slow  in  carrying  out 
improvements  which  are  not  demanded 
by  party  workers  and  government 
friends.  Of  course,  this  statement 
might  be  made  in  every  other  consti- 
tutionally governed  country  in  the 
world — except  Japan — but  that  does 
not  make  it  any  the  less  excusable. 


Mr.  William  Smith,  Secretary  of  the 
Canadian  Post-Office,  has  long  been 
an  advocate  of  the  advisability  of 
adding  the  telegraphs  to  the  post-office 
department  as  in  Great  Britain.  His 
views  seem  to  be  stimulating  others. 


A  writer  in  the  Toronto  News  gives  as 
his  opinion  that  the  average  message 
in  Canada  costs  about  three  cents  a 
word,  whereas  a  cent  a  word  might  be 
made  to  pay  if  the  business  increased 
proportionately.      He  says: — 

"In  Belgium  the  telegraph  rates  were  re- 
duced by  one-third.  The  business  rose  by 
four-fifths.  Then  the  rates  were  cut  in  half, 
whereupon  business  increased  by  83  per 
cent.  In  Prussia  a  reduction  of  a  third  sent 
the  business  up  70  per  cent.  Much  the  same 
happened  in  Switzerland.  In  Great  Britain  a 
reduction  was  made  in  1871.  Between  1871 
and  1901  the  business  increased  900  per  cent., 
while  the  population  increased  30  per  cent. 
By  1886  the  traffic  was  four  times  what  it  had 
been  fifteen  years  earlier.  Ten  years  later  the 
business  of  1886  had  been  doubled.  In  New 
Zealand  reduction  in  rates  had  an  extraordin- 
ary effect.  The  people  of  that  country  use  the 
telegraph  five  times  as  freely  as  do  the  people 
of  Ontario." 

If  the  present  government  has  any 
serious  intentions  in  this  matter,  it 
should  act  quickly.  The  existing  pri- 
vate companies  will  demand  double 
the  present  price  for  their  lines  and 
franchises  in  ten  years'  time.  Millions 
may  be  saved  by  an  immediate  pur- 
chase. The  long-distance  telephone 
lines  should  also  be  purchased.  This 
is  just  as  important  as  the  telegraph 
lines,  perhaps  more  important. 

The  long-distance  lines  of  the  Bell 
Telephone  Company  enable  it  to  stifle 
competition  in  local  telephone  service 
and  to  prevent  municipal  ownership. 
This  is  the  crux  of  the  telephone  ques- 
tion. The  government  might  appoint 
a  commission  of  experts  to  take  evi- 
dence and  give  an  unprejudiced  opin- 
ion on  this  subject  if  sufficient  data 
is  not  already  available.  The  recent 
report  of  the  British  Post  Office  shows 
that  its  telephone  business  is  increas- 
ing while  its  telegraph  business  is  de- 
creasing. 

The  growth  of  public  opinion  in 
favour  of  government  ownership  of 
monopolies  of  this  character  is  quite 
noticeable.  Thoughtful  persons  are 
convinced  that  economy  and  justice 
are  only  possible  through  such  re- 
forms; of  course,  much  depends  on 
wise,  careful  and  long-sighted  ad- 
ministration. 


EARL     GREY 

THE  NEW  GOVERNOR-CENERAL  OF  CANADA,  WHO  WAS  SWORN  IN  ON  DECEMBER  10th 


THE 


CANADIAN  Magazine 


VOL.   XX  1\" 


TORONTO,    JANLARV,    1905 


No.  3 


A  MONTH   IN  CURACAO 


By  G.   M.  L.   BROWN 


HK  \'enezuelan  Charge 
d'Affaires  at  Washington, 
on  whotii  I  LuUed  before 
embarking  for  South  Am- 
erica, seemed  greatly  sur- 
prised when  I  expressed  the  intention 
of  spending  a  week  in  Curacao. 

"A  week!"  he  exclaimed,  "why, 
one  afteriio  Mi  is  sufficient  to  see  every- 
thing oi  iiuert^t  in  the  place." 

This  I  could  hardly  credit,  though  i 
was  willing  to  admit  that  my  week 
might  be  excessive,  so  I  compromised 
by  allowing  just  three  days.  As  a 
matter  of  fact,  the  three  days  were 
extended  to  more  than  thirty,  and 
even  then  I  left  the  island  with  regret. 
Such  is  the  value  of  prearranged  plans! 
The  \'enezuelans,  of  course,  are 
prejudiced.  Their 
little  neighbour  is 
such  a  convenient 
place  of  refuge  for 
political  conspir- 
ators, and  offers 
such  opportimities 
to  smugglers  that 
it  keeps  their  war 
and  customs  de- 
partments constant- 
ly on  the  qui  vive, 
and  incidentally,  so 
the  Venezuelans 
claim,  puts  the  na- 
tion to  great  ex- 
pense. Further- 
more, Curacao  pos- 
sesses one  of  the 
finest  harbours  on 
the  Caribbean  Sea, 


and  thereby  captures  much  trade  that 
oM,rht  I  >  ,  ,  direct  to  the  mainland. 
Lielans  can  see  little  that 
is  good  in  nie  island  while  it  belongs 
to  Holland,  and  that,  the  sturdy  Dutch 
residents  assert,  will  always  be. 

Curacao,  next  to  Surinam,  is  the 
most  important  of  Holland's  American 
possessions;  but,  owing  to  its  posi- 
tion, is  one  of  the  least  known  islands 
of  the  West  Indies.  It  belonged  to 
Spain  for  about  a  century  after  its  dis- 
covery, but  in  1635  passed  into  the 
hands  of  the  Dutch,  and,  except  for 
short  intervals,  has  remained  Dutch 
ever  since. 

One  of  these  intervals  was  from  1807 
to  1 81 5,  when  it  was  held  by  Great 
Britain.     To-day,     nearly    a     century 


A   COCOANLT    PLANTATION 
The  prevailing  easterly  winds  have  bent  the  trees  perceptibly 


204 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


CURACAO — A    HAPPY    GROUP 

later,  by  an  accident  of  fate,  there  is 
not  a  solitary  English  resident  upon 
the  island.  Yet  English  is  commonly 
spoken  by  the  white  population,  and 
the  British  flag  is  seldom  absent  from 
the  harbour. 

I  shall  never  forget  my  first  view  of 
Willemstad.  I  had  been  twenty-four 
days  at  sea  in  a  small  brigantine,  and 
though  the  voyage  was  pleasant — as  a 
trip  in  a  sailing  vessel  is  bound  to  be 
if  one  has  a  trace 
of  the  romantic  in 
his  soul — yet  land 
was  good  indeed  to 
look  upon.  We 
sighted  the  north 
end  of  the  island 
just  before  dusk, 
and  had  to  coast  up 
and  down  its  un- 
lighted  shores  till 
dawn.  Then  we 
headed  for  port. 

When  I  went  on 
deck  we  were  hove 
to  awaiting  the 
pilot.  Before  us  lay 
a  picturesque  town, 
stretching  perhaps  a 
mile  andahalf  along 
a  coral  beach,  but 
partly    enclosed  by 


a  low  range  of  volcanic  hills, 
three  peaks  of  which  were 
outlined  against  the  azure 
sky.  Two  of  these  hills  were 
crowned  with  forts  and, 
guarding  the  narrow  en- 
trance to  the  harbour,  stood 
other  fortifications,  grim 
and  forbidding,  yet  likely  to 
be  as  useless  in  modern  war- 
fare as  mediffival  castles. 
In  striking  contrast  to  these 
were  the  white  and  yellow 
houses  with  queer  gables 
and  bright  tiled  roofs,  thor- 
oughly Dutch  in  detail,  but, 
regarded  en  masse,  rather 
oriental  in  appearance. 

The  vision  was  so  delight- 
ful that  I  sighed  as  we  swept 
into  the  harbour,  expecting 
the   usual    disappointment 
that   one  experiences  upon   nearing  a 
tropical    city.     To    mv    astonishment, 
however,  the  colours  appeared  brighter 
than  ever,  the  buildings  even  quainter, 
while    the    life    and    movement  in  the 
narrow    streets    and   upon    the  quays 
added  the  one  note  necessary  to  com- 
plete the  picture. 

Yet  Curacao,  in  a  sense,  remained  a 
vision.  It  was  almost  too  quaint,  its 
streets  too  clean,    the   houses  forbid- 


CURACAO — STREET   SCENE 


A  MOXTH  IN  CURACAO 


205 


ding  in  their  neatness; 
the  whole  place  like  a 
toy  city — the  "spotless 
town "  come  true.  I 
began  to  fear  lest  I 
should  scratch  one  of 
the  immaculate  walls 
with  the  end  of  my 
walking  stick ;  I  hesi- 
tated to  drop  the  ashes 
from  my  cigar;  I  learn- 
ed to  look  twice  in  the 
glass  before  sallying 
forth,  for  fear  my  ap- 
pearance might  offend 
the  eyes  of  the  fastid- 
ious negroes — with  the 
prim  Dutch  Burghers  I 
did  not  attempt  to  vie. 
Curacao  is  undoubtedly 
the  model  town  of  the 
West  Indies,  but  I 
should  not  care  to  live 
there.  Life  would  prove, 
1  imagine,  just  a  trifle 
monotonous,  particular- 
ly to  a  Bohemian. 

The  first  thing  one 
learnb  upon  landing  is 
that  the  name  Curacao 
applies  to  island  and 
city  alike,  "  Willem- 
stad"  being  seldom 
used ;  and  the  reason  of 
this  is  apparent  —  the 
rest  of  the  island  is 
practically  a  desert. 
This  is  due  more  to  the 
uncertainty  of  rain  than 
to  its  volcanic  forma- 
tion, for  what  soil  there 
is  seems  very  produc- 
tive when  the  rainfall  is 
at  all  regular.  Yet.  with 
the  exception  of  a  few 
promising  estates,  the 
land  will  probably  re- 
main a  barren  waste, 
important  only  for  the 
salt  and  phosphate  de- 
posits that  it  contains. 
The  island  of  Aruba,  how- 
ever, which  resembles  Cu- 
racao in  many  respects, 
can  boast  of  a  valuable  gold  mine,  now  being  worked 


company. 


2o6 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


TOWN    OF   CURACAO — BROAD   STREET 
Photograph  by  Soublette  et  Ftls 


To  make  up  for  these  drawbacks 
Nature  has  given  Curacao  a  magnifi- 
cent lagoon,  large  enough  to  accommo- 
date a  dozen  fleets,  and  connected 
with  the  sea  by  a  channel  so  deep  that 
a  British  steamer  that  sank  in  it  a  few 
years  ago  lies  undisturbed  at  the  bot- 
tom, plainly  visible  from  the  surface, 
but  far  beneath  the  lowest  floating 
keel.  This  channel  really  forms  the 
commercial  harbour,  but  the  lagoon  is 
used  by  visiting  warships  and  is  sel- 
dom deserted  for  any  length  of  time. 
Here,  it  will  be  remembered,  Cervera 
and  his  ill-fated  squadron  cast  anchor 
for  the  last  time  before  reaching 
Santiago. 

The  city  is  divided  by  the  main  chan- 
nel and  by  an  arm  of  the  lagoon  into 
three  parts,  each  of  which  has  its 
peculiar  characteristics.  The  eastern 
division  is  occupied  by  the  Jews,  the 
northern  division  by  the  Dutch,  while 
the  centre  is  the  business  section  and 
contains  the  Governor's  palace  and 
most  of  the  public  buildings.  The 
negro  population,  which  outnumbers 
the  white  by  almost  ten  to  one,  seems 
rather  evenly  distributed. 

These    different    sections    are    con- 


nected by  bridges,  the  largest  of  which 
is  formed  of  pontoons,  and  can  readily 
be  swung  open  when  a  vessel  enters 
or  leaves  the  port.  The  pontoon 
bridge,  as  well  as  the  town's  water- 
works and  electric  light  system,  are  all 
due  to  the  enterprise  of  a  former  Unit- 
ed States  consul;  but  the  bridge,  use- 
ful as  it  may  be,  adds  no  beauty  to  the 
place.  The  toll  is  two  Dutch  cents 
(four-fifths  of  a  Canadian  cent)  if  one 
wears  shoes,  or  half  price  if  one 
goes  barefoot.  The  negro,  it  is  hardly 
necessary  to  add,  gets  the  exclusive 
benefit  of  the  lower  rate. 

The  official  language  of  Curacao  is 
Dutch,  but  English  and  Spanish  are 
commonly  spoken,  the  latter  more  par- 
ticularly by  the  Jews,  who  are  of  Span- 
ish and  Portuguese  descent.  The 
most  common  language,  however,  is 
Papiamento,  a  patois  originated  by  the 
negro  slaves.  Unlike  most  West 
Indian  dialects,  it  has  been  adopted  by 
the  white  race,  and  has  taken  its  place 
among  written  languages.  The  fact 
that  two  periodicals  are  published  in 
Papiamento,  and  that  it  is  taught  in 
the  negro  schools,  would  show  that 
it  has  considerable  vitality,  even  if  it 


A  MONTH  IN  CURACAO 


207 


ISLAKD  OF  CURACAO — SHIPPING  SALT 
Photonrapk  bySouhUlUtt  FOs 


is  not  destined  ultimately  to  survive. 

Curacao,  despite  its  lack  of  rain,  has 
a  pleasant  climate.  Owing  to  the  pre- 
vailing east  winds,  the  weather  is  never 
sultry  and,  though  a  summer  heat  pre- 
vails the  year  around,  the  thermometer 
seldom  rises  above  eighty-seven.  This 
is  a  delightful  surprise  to  visitors  from 
the  North,  who  can  hardly  believe  at 
first  that  they  are  actually  safer  from 
oppressive  "  hot  waves  "  within  twelve 
degrees  of  the  equator  than  they  would 
be  thirty  degrees  farther  north.  The 
climate,  moreover,  is  very  healthful, 
and  seems  well  adapted  for  invalids, 
although  hotel  accommodation  is  not 
yet  what  it  should  be.  If  Curacao 
could  add  to  its  attractions  the  luxur- 
iant forests  and  plant  life  of  the  Wind- 
ward Islands,  it  would  indeed  be  a 
paradise. 

The  mainstay  of  the  city,  of  course, 
is  its  commerce  with  the  Spanish- 
American  republics,  and  to  foster  this  it 
has  reduced  its  tariffs  to  a  minimum, 
three  per  cent,  being  the  highest  rate 
charged.  This  has  brought  an  immense 
trade  to  the  island,  not  only  whole- 
sale, but  retail  as  well,  for  tourists 
and  travellers  invariably  avail  them- 
selves of  the  chance  to  buy  at  conti- 


nental prices.  Of  late  years,  however, 
Curacao  has  suffered,  as  has  Trinidad, 
from  a  prohibitive  duty  of  thirty  per 
cent,  imposed  by  Venezuela  upon  all 
foreign  goods  purchased  in  the  West 
India  Islands;  and,  to  complete  the 
ruin  of  her  two  island  neighbours,  this 


'^'^^'^ 

r ■■--'1 

^w 

^^ 

ic 

k 

A   COUNTRY   WELL   FOR    IRRIGATION 


208 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


SANTA    ROSA— A   VILLAGE   ON   THE   ISLAND   OF   CURACAO 


vindictive  republic  has  added  thirty 
per  cent,  upon  all  goods  trans-shipped 
in  their  ports.  This  absurd  tariff  came 
at  a  most  inopportune  time  for  Canada, 


ROASTING   COFFEE 

Coffee  is  roasted  fresh  almost  daily  in  the  Curacao  households 

Photo  by  the  author 


which  had  just  begun  a  small  but 
lucrative  trade  through  the  British 
Consul,  Mr.  Jacob  Jesurum. 

Mr.  Jesurum,  who  belongs  to  one  of 
the  oldest  and  most  influential 
Jewish  families  upon  the  island, 
became  interested  in  Canadian 
manufactures  several  years  ago, 
and  was  elected  a  corresponding 
member  of  the  Canadian  Manu- 
facturers'Association.  Convinced 
that  Canada  had  a  field  in  the 
northern  republics  of  South  Am- 
erica, he  went  North  in  the  fall  of 
1902,  and  spent  several  months 
in  Toronto  and  Montreal,  study- 
ing our  commercial  methods  and 
interviewing  the  leading  manu- 
facturers. Owing  to  the  block- 
ade of  Venezuela,  however,  which 
made  business  men  cautious  in 
opening  accounts  in  that  country, 
and  the  more  recent  crisis  in  Col- 
ombia, with  the  crowning  set- 
back of  Venezuela's  absurd  tariff, 
what  might  have  proved  a  val- 
uable commercial  opening  for  Ca- 
nada has  been  lost.  Mr.  Jesur- 
um, however,  acts  as  agent  in 
Curacao  for  several  Canadian 
firms,  and  in  enamel-ware  he  con- 
trols the  whole  business  of  the  is- 
land.     "  European  and  American 


THE  sours  WAITING 


209 


THE    ISLAM)    OF    Ct  RACAO       A    COLNTRV 
Photograph  by  the  author 


enamel- ware  is  no  longer  imported,"  he 
said,  with  a  smile;  "  we  have  silenced 
competition." 

While  a  firm  friend  of  Canadian  and 
British  interests,  Mr.  Jesurum  seemed 
rather  discouraged  over  the  lack  of 
enterprise  shown  by  a  number  of 
Canadian  houses. 

"They  do  not  seem  ready  for  an 
export  trade,"  he  declared.  "They 
are  too  slow  and  conservative,"  a 
criticism  that  he  amply  substanti- 
ated. 

Curacao  can  hardly  be  mentioned 
the  world  over  without  suggesting  the 
famous  liqueur  that  bears  its  name. 
This  is  made  from  a  small,  sour 
orange,  indigenous  to  the  island;  but 
the  bulk  of  the  liqueur  is  now  manu- 
factured in  Holland.  There  is  still  a 
limited  demand  for  the  native  brand, 
however,  which  sells  retail  for  thirty 
cents  a  bottle.      Few  travellers   can  at 


first  believe  their  ears  when  the  amount 
is  named,  but  after  they  begin  to  price 
other  articles  their  incredulity  changes 
to  that  anxious,  insatiate  expression 
so  frequently  to  be  seen  in  our  depart- 
ment stores.  Presto!  the  innocent 
looking  tourists  have  become  a  raven- 
ous band  of  bargain  hunters. 

One's  pleasantest  memories  of  Cura- 
cao centre  in  the  hospitality  of  the 
people.  The  genuine  welcome  that 
awaits  the  traveller,  the  charming  sim- 
plicity of  the  homes,  the  absence  of 
bustle  and  hurry,  and  the  intelligence 
and  refinement  that  prevail — these 
elements  force  the  visitor  from  the 
North  to  admit  that  his  own  people, 
sturdy  and  honest  though  they  be 
have  yet  managed  to  miss  something 
of  life.  Many  other  islands  of  the 
West  Indies  could  teach  the  same  les- 
son, but  none  better  than  this  little 
Dutch  colonv  in  the  Caribbean  Sea. 


THE  SOUL'S  WAITING 


BY  INGLIS    MORSE 


LIKE  Memnon  waiting  for  the  Dawn 
The  Soul  oft  waits  till,  darkness  past. 
A  vision  of  Life's  deepest  peace 
Comes  to  the  soul  at  last. 


THE  NEW  METHOD  OF  PROPULSION 

COMPILED  B  Y  JAMES  JOHNSON 


FEW  days  ago  the  world 
was  asking  if  the  horse 
was  doomed.  To-day  there 
are  few  horses  drawing 
street  cars — except  in  New 
York  city;  there  are  gasoline  motor- 
cars flying  over  the  roads  of  Europe 
and  America  carrying  pleasure-seekers 
in  great  number;  there  are  hundreds  of 
electric  express  waggons  and  freight 
lorries  in  use  in  the  larger  cities  of  the 
two  continents;  there  are  electric  lan- 
daus, hansoms  and  coupes;  there  are 
electric  hose-waggons,  electric  ambu- 
lances; there  are  electric  inspection- 
cars  for  use  on  railways;  there  are 
electric  and  steam  automobiles  in  use 
in  agricultural  sections  of  America, 
Great  Britain  and  South  Africa. 

To-day  the  world  is  asking  if  the 
steam-engine  is  doomed.  The  answer 
seems  to  be  the  same  with  modifica- 
tions. The  water-wheel  and  the  elec- 
tric generator  are   being  combined  to 


A   TURBINE   WHEEL   AND    ITS    NOZZLES 

Showing  how  the  steam  is  applied  directly  to  a 
revolving  disc. 


do  away  with  steam-engines  in  some 
places.  At  Georgetown,  Ont. ,  there 
is  a  paper  mill  which  for  years  has 
been  operated  by  water  turbines  and 
electric  generators  placed  at  a  dam 
nearly  a  mile  away.  The  water-power 
at  Niagara  Falls  is  being  used  in  the 
same  way.  Water  turbines  are  being 
connected  with  electric  generators,  and 
the  resulting  current  is  being  conveyed 
to  nearby  towns  and  cities  to  be  sub- 
stituted for  steam-power.  This  is  one 
way  in  which  the  steam-engine  is  be- 
ing displaced. 

Then  there  is  another  way.  The 
steam  turbine  is  displacing  the  piston 
engine.  The  turbine  has  no  cylinder, 
no  piston-rod,  no  series  of  finely 
adjusted  bearings,  shafting  and  belt- 
ing. Steam  turbines  from  5  to  6,500 
horse-power  are  now  in  use,  and  are 
said  to  be  more  economical  of  fuel, 
are  more  satisfactory  in  every  way,  and 
certainly  occupy  much  less  space. 

What  is  a  steam  turbine?  It 
is  a  spindle  or  rotar,  fitted  with 
a  series  of  projecting,  curving 
blades  which,  under  the  pressure 
of  steam,  cause  the  spindle  to  re- 
volve within  a  close-fitting  cylin- 
der or  stator.  "The  steam  enters 
the  turbine  through  nozzles  or 
stationary  guide  blades  fixed  in 
the  inner  surface  of  the  cylinder 
or  stator.  The  steam  is  directed 
upon  the  spindle  or  rotar.  The 
impact  upon  the  spindle  blades, 
combined  with  the  reaction  due 
to  the  difference  in  pressure  on 
either  side  of  the  ring  blades, 
causes  the  spindle  to  revolve. 
Throughout  the  turbine  these  ac- 
tions are  repeated,  the  pressure 
of  the  steam  increasing  and  de- 
creasing as  it  passes  through  the 
alternating  rings  of  blades,  grad- 
ually lowering  to  that  of  the 
vacuum.  This  operation  may  be 
continuous,  as  in  the  Parson's 
Turbine,  or  divided  into  stages." 


THE  NEW  METHOD  OF  PROPULSION 


211 


If  this  de- 
scription be 
too  com- 
plex, it  may 
be  explain- 
ed that  this 
mode  of 
producing 
r  o  t  a  t  o  ry 
motion  of  a 
shaft  is  the 
same  in 
principle  as 
that  of  the 
windmill, 
only  steam 
is  used 
instead 
of  wind. 
Steam 
rushes  in 
on  the 
blades  and 
is  drawn 
out  at  the 
other  end 
by  the  ac- 
tion of  pow- 
er ful  air- 
pumps. 
The  throb- 
bing of  the 
engines,  so 
well  known 
toall  steam- 
boat travel- 
lers, isilone 
away  with, 
and    the 

machinery  moves  with   a  smooth,  con- 
tinuous action. 

The  steam  turbine  is  superior  to  the 
steam-engine  in  many  ways.  In  the 
first  place,  there  is  nothing  to  wear 
out ;  there  are  no  friction  surfaces. 
The  only  rubbing  parts  are  at  each  end 
of  the  spindle,  and  these  run  in  oil;  as 
there  is  little  vibration,  the  friction  is 
almost  nil.  Four  loo  horse-power 
turbines  have  been  operating  an  elec- 
tric-light plant  at  Newcastle,  England, 
since  1889,  and  are  said  to  be  still  in 
perfect  condition. 

Again,  the  turbine  occupies  so  much 
less  space.     This  is  important  whether 


A   MACHINE   FOR  PRODUCING   ELECTRICITY 
A  5,000  kilowatt  steam  turbine  with  galleries  direct-connected  to  generator 


in  a  power-house  or  aboard  ship.  A 
railway  company  in  Ohio  was  able  to 
find  room  for  three  horizontal  steam 
turbines  of  1,000-kilowatt  capacity 
each,  with  electric  generators,  switch- 
boards and  transformers  in  the  space 
formerly  occupied  by  one  i,C)oo-kilo- 
watt  piston  engine.  The  accompany- 
ing illustration  (Fig.  2)  shows  in  an 
effective  way  a  comparison  of  the 
floor,  foundation,  and  head  spaces 
occupied  by  one  of  the  newest,  vertical, 
reciprocating  (piston)  engines,  with  a 
5,000-kilowatt,  electric  generator  at- 
tached, and  a  Parson's  type  turbine- 
generator  unit  of  the  same  capacity. 


212 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


COMPARATIVE   SIZES   OF   TURBINE    AND    RECIPhOCATING    ENGINES 

The  outline  shows  one  of  the  newest  vertical  reciprocating  engines  attached  to  a  generator.     The  black 

part  of  the  illustration  shows  a  turbine-generator  unit  of  the  same  capacity.     There  is  a  great 

saving  in  the  space  occupied. — By  kindness  of  the  Review  of  Reviews  (N.  Y.). 


There  are  many  other  smaller  advan- 
tages which  are  too  technical  for  a 
general  article  such  as  this. 

The  greatest  work,  perhaps,  of  the 
turbine  will  lie  in  its  application  to  the 
propelling  of  ships.  The  first  com- 
pound steam  turbine  engine  was  built 
so  long  ago  as  the  year  1884,  by  the 
Hon.  C.  A.  Parsons,  F.R.S.,  and 
applied  to  the  driving  of  a  dynamo 
with  satisfactory  results.  The  evolu- 
tion of  the  turbine  was  rapid,  and  ten 
years  later  the  pioneer  Marine  Syndi- 
cate was  formed.  The  famous  "Tur- 
binia "  underwent  her  initial  trial  in 
1894.      She  was  fitted  with   one  shaft. 


which  in  1896  gave  place  to  three 
shafts  with  three  propellers  on  each, 
making  nine  in  all.  The  vessel  devel- 
oped a  great  speed,  and  excited  partic- 
ular attention  in  naval  circles.  Another 
vessel  had  four  shafts  and  three  pro- 
pellers on  each,  making  in  all  twelve 
propellers,  but  the  tendency  now  is  to 
abandon  the  tandem  propeller  and  the 
multiplicity  of  shafting. 

A'^turbine-driven  steamer  has  oper- 
ated on  Lake  Ontario  during  1904  be- 
tween Toronto  and  Hamilton,  and  has 
been  a  great  success.  The  Allans, 
ever  foremost  in  Transatlantic  trans- 
portation, are  about  to  put  into  com- 


THE  NEW  METHOD  OF  PROPULSIOA 


213 


THE  S.S.   OCEANIC  THE  S.S.    VICTORIAN 

The  screws  of  an  ordinary  ocean  greyhound  compared  with  those  of  a  tui bine-driven  vn«l,  The  former 
are  two  in  number  and  laraer;  the  latter  arc  three  in  number,  the  centre  one  being  hijji-m'tiuc  and  the 
other  two  low-pressure.     The  two  latter  have  each  a  leyciaiiig  arrangement. 


mission  two  high-class  turbine-driven 
steamers,  the  Victorian  and  the  Virgin- 
ian, each  of  12,000  tons,  530  feet  in 
length,  and  61  feet  beam — the  largest 
steamers  ever  built  for  the  St.  Law- 
rence trade. 

With  the  old  type  of  marine  engine 
it  is  apparent  to  everyone  that  the 
hurling  of  a  great  weight  like  a  piston 
and  piston-rod  from  one  end  of  the 
cylinder  to  the  other,  and  back  agam 
at  an  enormous  velocity  must  be  alto- 
gether unscientific,  as  it  involves  great 
loss  of  energy,  great  stress  on  the 
working  parts,  and  considerable  and 
distressing  vibration.  These  have 
been  overcome  by  the  turbine,  which 
bids  fair  to  be  the  pioneer  of  a  new  era 
in  ocean  travelling.  There  is,  of 
course,  the  fact  the  turbines  cannot 
reverse,  but  in  the  Victorian  reversing 
turbines  will  be  enclosed  in  the  low 
pressure  casings,  and  thus  this  diffi- 
culty is  eliminated.  That  is,  there 
will  be  separate  turbines  for  forward 
and  backward  work.  It  should  also  be 
remembered  that   the  safetv  of  a  ves- 


sel depends  not  so  much  on  its  speed 
astern  as  on  the  power  to  stop  quickly, 
and  this  turbine  as  designed  is  an 
extremely  powerful  engine  in  stopping 
because  of  the  peculiar  construction  of 
the  blades.  In  this  connection  it  may 
be  mentioned  that  the  turbine  steamer 
Queen  Alexandra  when  going  19  knots 
was  stopped  in  two  and  a  half  times  her 
own  length.  The  turbine  has  also  great 
starting  power,  the  Turbinia,  for  in- 
stance, having  attained  from  rest  a 
speed  equal  to  28  knots  per  hour  in 
20  seconds.  When  manoeuvring  the 
centre  shaft  can  be  idle  while  the 
steam  is  sent  direct  by  valves  to  low- 
pressure  or  alternately  reversing  tur- 
bines. 

Recently,  the  British  admiralty  or- 
dered two  3.000  tons  vessels  to  be 
known  as  Amethyst  and  Topase,  the 
former  to  have  turbines  and  the  latter 
reciprocating  engines.  Each  was  to 
have  a  trial  speed  of  not  less  than  2 1  ^ 
knots.  When  these  trials  occurred, 
the  best  showing  of  the  Topase  was  22^ 
knots    an    hour,  while    the    Amethyst, 


214 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


THE  ALLAN  LINES  TURBINE-DRIVEN  OCEAN  PALACK,   THK    "  VICTOKL^N,       JIST  AFTER  LALNCHING 


with  the  same  boiler  power,  beat  this 
record  by  one  and  a  quarter  knots. 
There  are  other  points  of  superiority 
which  favour  the  turbine. 

One  of  the  chief  of  these  secondary 
elements  is  the  economy  of  fuel.  It 
was  computed  in  these  trials  that  with 
750  tons  of  fuel,  the  radius  of  the 
action  of  the  Amethyst  at  18  knots  an 
hour  would  be  3,600  miles,  while  that 
of  the  Topaze  would  be  2,770  miles. 
This  showed  thirty  per  cent,  in  favour 
of  the  turbine.  At  a  20  knot  .speed, 
the  disparity  was  even  more  notice- 
able. 

Another  advantage  claimed  for  the 
use  of  turbines  in  war-vessels  is  the 
absence  of  vibration.  This  improve- 
ment not  only  promotes  the  comfort  of 
the  passengers,  officers  and  crew  of 
the  steamer,  but  also  insures  greater 
accuracy  of  aim  in  handling  the  guns 
of  the  vessel.  Even  if  there  was 
nothing  to  be  gained  in  speed  or  in 
economy    of    fuel,   this    consideration 


alone  would  be  enough  to  turn  the 
scale  in  favour  of  the  turbine. 

These  experiments  by  the  makers  of 
marine  engines  and  by  the  larger 
builders  of  ships  are  being  keenly 
watched  by  all  interested  in  the 
methods  of  propulsion.  The  general 
opinion  seems  to  be  that  the  steam 
turbine  with  recent  improvements  is  a 
modern  reform  of  great  value,  and  one 
destined  to  have  a  distinct  economic  ef- 
fect on  the  problems  of  transportation. 

With  steam  turbines  driving  all  the 
electric  generators  in  the  world  and 
propelling  all  the  larger  steam  vessels, 
with  electric  motors  driving  the 
machinery  in  the  workshops  of  the 
world,  and  electric  engines  drawing 
trains,  the  day  of  the  piston  or  recipro- 
cating engine  and  the  locomotive  will 
have  passed.  Yet  it  will  not  be  to-day 
or  to-morrow.  But  another  twenty-five 
years  should  make  the  large  piston- 
engine  almost  a  curiosity — a  relic  of  a 
past  civilisation. 


THE    BUILDER 


BY    INGLIS    MORSE 


TN  stones  more  lordly  than  his  dreams 
■^     The  hand  of  man  has  reared  aloft 
The  temples  for  his  Gods,  where  oft 
He  finds  his  soul's  divinest  themes. 


HON.    CHARLES   SMITH    HYMAN 
Photograph  by  Pittaway 


CANADIAN    CELEBRITIES 

NO.  58— HONOURABLE  CHARLES  S.  HYMAN 


§ 

1 

N  speaking-  of  the  Honour- 
able Charles  Smith  Hyman, 
one  involuntarily  stops  to 
question  whether  it  is  proper 
to  say  of  London,  Ont., 
or  if  it  would  not  be  eminently  more 
fitting  to  refer  to  him  as  "of  the  Do- 
minion of  Canada."  For,  although  it 
is  from  London  that  Mr.  Hyman  goes 
to  Ottawa,  he  is  there  only  a  promi- 
nent manufacturer;  in  the  Capital  City 
he  is  a  man  of  political  prominence 
and  recognised  as  a  broad- gauged 
man  of  affairs,  a  fact  which  Sir  Wil- 
frid Laurier  was  quick  to  recognise 
when  he  appointed  him  Minister  with- 
out portfolio. 

It  is  perhaps  the  natural  outcome  of 
events  that  Mr.  Hyman  should  be  a 
big  man,  for  his  business  training  has 


been  such  as  to  evolve  breadth  and 
strength.  His  father,  who  came  from 
Williamsport,  Pa.,  in  1835,  to  start  a 
small  tannery  in  London,  died  in  1878, 
leaving  his  son  to  shoulder  all  the  cares 
and  responsibilities  of  the  business  at 
the  early  age  of  twenty-four.  Perhaps 
in  this  age  of  young  men,  twenty-four 
may  seem  a  sufficiently  mature  age 
for  a  man  to  assume  such  a  task;  but 
thirty  years  ago  no  business  man  was 
supposed  to  have  reached  years  of  dis- 
cretion until  the  mature  age  of  forty. 
How  well  Mr.  Hyman  succeeded  with 
the  responsibilities  that  fell  to  his  lot 
may  be  gathered  from  the  fact  that  not 
only  does  he  still  own  the  London 
business  and  St.  John  Hide  Company 
of  St.  John,  N.B.,  together  with  the 
S.  Arscott  Company  of  Benton,  in  the 


CANADIAN  CELEBRITIES 


217 


same  province,  but  that  all  three  busi- 
nesses have  long  ago  outgrown  any- 
thing that  the  first  Hyman  ever 
dreamed  of  their  attaining.  Hon.  Mr. 
Hyman  is  a  living  example  of  the 
young  man  in  business. 

But  so  much  for  his  private  interests. 
As  is  typical  with  a  man  of  his  calibre, 
Mr.  Hyman  is  essentially  a  public- 
spirited  man,  and  has  always  taken  an 
interest  in  public  affairs.  When  he 
was  twenty-eight  years  of  age,  he  was 
a  member  of  the  municipal  council  of 
London,  on  which,  for  two  years,  he 
served  as  chairman  of  the  finance  com- 
mittee, so  ably  performing  his  duties 
that  he  inspired  Londoners  with  suffi- 
cient confidence  in  his  ability  to  elect 
him  Mayor  of  his  native  city  in 
the  following  year.  Two  years  later, 
when  he  was  but  thirty-three  years 
of  age,  he  was  made  president 
of  the  Board  of  Trade  of  the  Forest 
City. 

In    the    General    Elections  of  1891, 
Mr.  Hyman  entered  Dominion  politics 
in    the  interests  of  the   Liberal  party, 
and    after    an    exciting    contest    was 
elected  for  the  city  of  London  to  the 
House  of  Commons,  although  he  was 
subsequently  unseated  by  the  election 
court.        In    1900,   however,   he  again 
successfully  contested    the  seat.      His 
majority  of  only  twenty  in  the  recent 
general  election  must  by  no  means  be 
taken  as  an  indication  that   London  is 
not    altogether  sure   of  its  own   mind 
about  being  represented  by  him;   but 
rather   that    his    universal    popularity 
begat  a  feeling  of  over-confidence  of 
which    the    Conservative    party  were 
quick   to   take   advantage.     And  how 
easy  it  is   to  take   such   an  advantage 
may    be    easily   understood   when  the 
outsider  is  made  to   realise  that  Lon- 
don, always    a    Conservative    strong- 
hold, makes  even   her  municipal  elec- 
tions  a   party   affair,  and   was   strong 
enough  at   the   beginning  of  1904   to 
return   nine  Tory    aldermen    and  only 
three   Liberals  to   the  council,    to  say 
nothing    of    a    Conservative     Mayor. 
The    secret    of  Mr.    Hyman's    recent 
small  majority  is   reflected  in  the  way 
wagers  were  freely  laid  giving  him  a 


thousand    majority;   no    one    expected 
anything  else. 

And  then,  outside  of  both  public  and 
business  interests,  there  is  Charles  S. 
Hyman,  the  man.  A  few  paragraphs 
back,  I  made  the  statement  that  Mr. 
Hyman  was  a  big  man — not  only  big 
physically,  but  big  in  every  sense  of 
the  word.  Without  time  for  anything 
puny  or  petty,  he  has  time  for  looking 
at  every  subject  only  in  its  widest 
scope  and  regarding  it,  in  his  mental 
vision,  quickly  and  from  every  side. 
Once  he  has  dismissed  a  subject  as  not 
worth  bothering  about,  he  seldom 
goes  back  to  it.  He  possesses  that 
intuition  which,  combined  with  energy 
and  tact,  goes  to  make  a  man  a  leader 
among  men.  Everything  into  which 
he  goes,  he  goes  straight  through; 
there  is  no  half-heartedness  about  him. 
Like  President  Roosevelt,  he  is  an  ex- 
ample of  "  strenuousness"  and  a  lover 
of  outdoor  sports.  He  is  an  officer  of 
the  London  Hunt  Club,  and  was  form- 
erly one  of  the  Forest  City's  best 
cricketers.  Old  timers  will  still  tell 
you  about  some  of  the  plays  that 
"Charlie"  Hyman  used  to  make.  If 
one  is  to  believe  all  they  tell,  he  must 
have  been  a  wonder  at  the  bat;  but 
after  listening,  you  feel  a  bit  inclined 
to  take  their  warm  personal  regard  for 
the  man  into  consideration,  and  tem- 
per some  of  the  statements  with  a 
pinch  of  salt. 

Perhaps  the  two  most  striking  fea- 
tures about  the  man  are  his  manliness 
and  his  ability  to  inspire  confidence. 
When  Hon.  C.  S.  Hyman,  either  on 
the  platform  or  speaking  personally, 
makes  a  statement,  one  feels  that  he 
is  telling  the  truth.  You  believe  him 
because  he  speaks  right  out  from  the 
shoulder.  He  does  not  mince  mat- 
ters; he  is  not  a  quibbler.  Not  per- 
haps that  he  could  not,  but  he  simply 
does  not  want  to;  as  I  said  before,  he 
is  a  big  man.  Moreover,  he  stands  by 
his  friends.  He  is  not  strong  on 
promises  and  weak  on  performance; 
but  rather  the  other  way  about.  He 
makes  few  promises;  but  the  men 
whom  he  sees  honestly  working  for 
his  interests  do  not  lose  by  it. 


2i8  THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 

A  manly  man   himself,  perhaps  it  is  stead  of  putting  it   in  his  pocket,  he 

this  same  quality  that  he  admires  most  turned  to  his  unsuccessful  competitor 

in    others.      A    little    incident    which  and    generously    divided    equally  with 

occurred  some  years  ago  may  serve  to  him.      Mr.  Hyman,  who  witnessed  the 

show    a    tangible    expression  of    this  performance,  said  nothing  at  the  time; 

statement.       During  one  of  his  cam-  but,  on  his  return  to  London,  it  is  said, 

paign  trips,  Mr.  Hyman  offered  a  prize  that  he  sent  the  larger  lad  a  cheque  for 

to  two  lads  in  a  foot  race.     The  con-  fifty  dollars.     How  the  story  got  out  no 

testants  were  not  evenly  matched,  one  one  knows.     As  one  of  his  lieutenants, 

of  the  boys  being  much  larger  than  the  who  has  been  associated  with  him  for 

other.    Naturally  the  larger  won.    But  thirty  years  or  more,  said,  "Certainly, 

when  he  was  awarded   the   prize,  in-  Mr.  Hyman  did  not  tell  it." 

Hubert  McBean  Johnston 


"SONGS" 

BY    WINIFRED    ARMSTRONG 

"  Oing  to  me,"  a  sweet  voice  cried, 

And,  seated,  I  softly  smiled 
And  wondered  which  of  all  my  songs 

Would  please  a  little  child. 
I  sang  her  a  song  of  birds  and  flowers 

To  an  air  both  quaint  and  sweet ; 
And  looking  down,  I  found  the  child 

Had  sunk  in  a  quiet  sleep. 

"Sing  to  me,"  a  maiden  cried. 

When  the  twilight  'round  us  fell; 
And  I  sang  to  her  a  song  of  love. 

And  found  it  pleased  her  well ; 
I  sang  to  her  a  tender  song. 

Of  all  love's  hopes  and  fears. 
And  the  maiden's  face  was  d.11  aglow 

And  her  eyes  were  full  of  tears. 

"  Sing  to  me,"  a  woman  cried, 

A  woman  both  old  and  sad — 
"  Sing  to  me  something  to  ease  this  pain, 

And  make  my  tired  heart  glad." 
I  sang  to  her  a  song  of  joy 

And  the  peace  that  to  us  is  given 
When  earthly  cares  and  joys  are  o'er, 

And  we  are  at  rest  in  heaven  ; 
And  looking  down  on  the  woman's  face, 

I  saw  all  the  pain  had  fled 
From  the  tired  eyes  and  weary  heart. 

For  her  soul  was  comforted. 


TS  it  from  his  father  or  from  his  moth- 
-*•  er  that  man  receives  the  influence 
that  rules  his  life  ?  They  say  it  is  the 
father  who  controls  our  destinies.  It 
is  he  who  rules  us.  It  is  he  whose 
command  we  must  obey  when  we  are 
young,  whose  will  makes  us  warriors, 
who  directs  our  wills,  and  shows  us 
how  to  be  worthy.  We  are  called 
his  sons;  we  are  told  of  his  deeds  by 
our  comrades  if  he  is  dead,  and  are 
encouraged  to  rival  the  acts  that  made 
him  known  among  the  tribesmen  as  a 
leader  and  chief. 

So  it  is  said,  and  yet  I  remember 
little  of  my  father.  He  was  killed  be- 
fore I  could  retain  the  words  he  may 
have  addressed  to  me  to  grow  up  a 
man  amongst  men.  I  remember  him, 
perhaps,  from  a  mere  imagination  of 
what  I  think  must  have  been  his 
appearance.  It  may  be  only  because 
I  was  told  he  was  like  some  other 
chief  whom  I  saw  in  childhood.  Yet 
I  believe  that  it  is  not  only  a  trick  that 
memory  plays  with  me  when  I  see, 
outlined  against  the  white  light  of  day 
at  the  entrance  of  the  tent  in  which  I 
sprawled  and  crawled  as  a  little  dusky 
baby,  the  tall,   spare  form  of  a  man — 


enevlfBreed^Stopy 


agile,  calm,  lithe,  and  with  bare 
shoulders  and  arms,  a  long  feather 
hanging  from  the  back  of  his  head, 
from  which  the  far  longer  black  locks 
hang  in  two  strands  of  hair.  Around 
his  middle  is  fastened  a  great,  brown, 
hairy  robe  by  a  belt  that  lets  the  upper 
part  fall  doubled  from  the  waist,  and 
his  legs  are  hidden.  This  is  the  way' 
in  which  men  of  our  tribe  wore  the 
robe  or  skin  of  a  buffalo  when  the 
chief  was  mourning  for  the  death  of  one 
dear  to  him.  So  someone  must  have 
died  who  was  near  and  dear  to  him. 
How  was  it  my  mother  never  told  me? 
It  is  of  her  that  I  think  when  my 
thoughts  go  back  to  childhood.  It  is 
often,  perhaps  oftenest,  with  us  "  half- 
breeds"  that  this  influence  of  the 
mother  prevails.  For  I  am  told  that 
I  was  a  half-breed.  How  could  that 
be  when  my  father  was  a  chief  among 
the  Sioux  Indians,  and  my  mother  was 
of  that  tribe  ?  And  here  I  only  relate 
what  has  been  told  to  me.  The  tale 
seems  probable,  though  not  proven. 

They  say  that  my  mother  it  was  who 
was  a  half-breed.  One  of  the  white 
men,  who  spoke  not  the  white  lang- 
uage, but  the  tongue  of  the  older 
nation  whom  the  whites  vanquished 
in  the  distant  countries  near  the  great 
salt  water  in  the  East,  took  for  a  wife 
a  dark  girl  of  the  Iroquois,  or  it  may 
have  been  one  of  the  tribes  near  the 
Lake  of  the  Woods,  who  live  in  the 
summer  on  the  blueberries  of  the  for- 
ests and  in  the  winter  on  the  white  flsh, 
and  are  not  fond  of  fighting.  But  they 
are  clever  at  building  canoes.  They 
are  brave  in  descending  the  river 
rapids,  where  a  false  movement  of  a 
paddle,  or  even  the  wrong  balance  of 
the   body,   may  cause  their  barque  to 


*  This  story  relates  something'  of  the  earlier  career  of  Sitting  Bull.     The  later  story  of 
this  famous  Indian  will  be  told  by  F.  C.  Wade,  K.C.,  in  the  February  number. 


220 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


strike  against  a  rock,  and  plunge  all 
on  board  into  hissing  foam  and  vehe- 
ment cataract,  where  the  death  cry  is 
smothered  in   the  roar  of  the  raving 
waters.     Coming  to  the  plains  of  the 
Winnipeg  Lake  and   the   red  running 
floods  of  the  Assiniboine,  my  mother 
when  a  child  had  followed  the  camp  of 
her  father   and  mother,  and  had  been 
stolen  when  some  dispute  had  occurred 
with  the  Sioux.     That  she  had  white 
blood  I  know.      But  she  never  remem- 
bered  a  word  of  the   language  of  the 
white   men ;    and,   save   that   her  eyes 
were  of  a  different  brown  colour  from 
those  of   the   tribe  and  that  her  hair 
had  a  light  and  a  curve  in  it  that  none 
'  of  our  people  possessed,  she  could  not 
be  known  by  any  mark  that  could  be 
seen   to  be  part  of  other  blood.      But 
her  bosom  was  lighter  in  hue  than  was 
the   skin  of   the    mothers    among  the 
Sioux.      For  this  she  was  jeered  at  by 
the  women,  and  the  children   mocked 
me.     And  so  it  came  about  that  one 
of  the  priests  of  the  French  voyageurs 
on  the  Red   River  observed   me  and, 
when  my  mother  died,  took  me,  giving 
payment  in  time  of  dearth   of  food    to 
the  Indians  for  me.      For  five  years  I 
was  with  him,  and  I  learned  the  wisdom 
of  the  strangers,  so   that  I   can  write 
and  speak  French,  and  understand  also 
the  American  tongue. 

Ah,  but  the  habits  of  the  mother 
prevail !  It  does  not  matter  that  she 
herself  has  been  only  trained  to  her 
ways  of  life  by  habit  and  not  by  blood. 
The  customs  get  into  the  blood  and 
influence  the  children.  It  is  the  habits 
of  the  immediate,  not  of  the  remote 
ancestor  or  ancestress,  that  conquer. 
I  might  have  grown  up  a  learned  man 
— a  priest  intent  on  following  the  ex- 
ample of  some  French  ancestor  who 
waged  war  on  bad  things  in  man  and 
nature.  I  might  have  joined  with 
some  who,  half  French  and  half  Indian, 
took  to  raising  corn  and  buckwheat 
and  roots,  and  have  been  content  to 
have  a  strip  of  land  full  of  foodstuffs, 
and  have  toiled  with  the  implements 
of  husbandry.  I  heard  of  a  great 
world  beyond  the  woods  and  prairies 
where  men  lived  in  hundreds  of  thou- 


sands, and  toiled  and  toiled,  and  seldom 
saw  the  open  country,  and  were  con- 
tent to  exist  without  killing  either  time 
or  game,  and  hunted  only  for  sayings 
of   the   dead    deeds   of   dead   men.      I 
knew  such    who    would  care   nothing 
for   the  habits    of   men,  or    birds,    or 
beasts,  but  only  for  the  records  of  the 
dead.     They  fed  their  minds  with  the 
images  of  those  who  are  gone  from  us 
for   ever.       They    gaze    with    earnest 
stare  at  the  printed  page,  and  live  in 
thought    and    reverie   with    the    ideas 
that   moved  the   pen    of  those   whose 
eyes   saw   other   things  than  ours  see 
now,  and  whose  actions  could  not  be 
repeated  now.     They  held  themselves 
close  prisoners  in  places  where  the  air 
was  foul.     They  became    blanched  in 
colour.     The  healthy  tan  of  the  winds 
they  '  disliked.      Their    blood    coursed 
slowly    through    their    veins.       They 
thought  that   by  digging  deeper  into 
the  ground  than  had  others  that  they 
could  make  men  happier  and  stronger. 
They  compassed  greater  death-dealing 
powers  only  by  half-killing  themselves. 
They  esteemed  the  illnesses  that  lead 
to  quiet  death  the  chief  evil,  and  made 
the  death-bed  a  torture  by  prolonging 
painful  life.     They  called  progress  and 
civilisation    the    power  of  making  all 
life  artificial,  and  all  pleasures  werebe- 
mingled  with  labour.     The  mind  was 
made  only  to  minister  to  the  conditions 
they    called   comfort,    which    softened 
the   body  so   that  its    enjoyment  was 
limited    to   the    places    where    certain 
foods    and    drinks    and    other    things 
could    be     obtained    only     by     many 
working  together. 

How  different  was  it  with  the  chil- 
dren of  the  prairie  and  the  woods! 
While  nature  was  kind,  true  enjoyment 
was  the  heritage  of  all.  I  except  the 
times  of  famine.  But  they  came  not 
in  the  days  I  knew.  And  I  had  ex- 
perience of  the  white  man's  plagues, 
which  my  Indian  friends  had  never 
known.  Give  me,  I  said,  one  year  of 
cholera,  or  smallpox,  or  typhoid,  and 
it  is  worse  than  the  seldom-endured 
famine.  Nature  is  never  so  unfair 
when  left  alone  as  she  becomes  when 
her    acts    are    dictated  by  civilisation. 


THE  HALF-BREED'S  STORY 


221 


Her  noble  and  healthy  instincts  are 
then  warped  and  twisted,  and,  like  a 
woman  overdriven,  she  knows  not 
what  she  does.  The  very  things  that 
were  most  beloved  becomeher  loathing. 
She  hates  where  she  loved,  and  none 
can  recognise  the  being  that  was  benefi- 
cent in  the  distraught  creature  whose 
very  being  has  wholly  altered.  And 
I,  inheriting  the  habits  which  had  be- 
come the  nature,  or  the  second  nature, 
of  my  mother,  longed  for  the  free  life 
of  whom  civilisation  calls  the  savage. 

Why  call  him  so?  That  he  is  not 
savage  is  best  attested  by  the  whites 
themselves,  who  never  disdain  Indian 
blood.  How  many  are  there  among 
Americans  who  boast  descent  from 
Pocahontas,  the  Indian  maiden  of  Vir- 
ginia ?  And  why  not?  Do  the  red- 
skins have  less  comforts  and  less 
heroic  qualities  than  the  whites?  I 
say  that  in  peaceful  days  they  are 
better,  not  worse,  in  trapping.  Among 
the  frame  huts  of  the  whites  I  longed 
for  the  Moya,  or  hide  tent  of  the  Sioux. 
Could  any  place  be  more  happy  for 
man's  body  than  the  painted  lodges  of 
the  "Savage"?  The  buffalo  skins  of 
which  it  was  made  were  splendidly 
wrought  and  stitched,  and  overlapped 
so  that  a  wall  impervious  to  the  coldest 
wind  was  set  up,  resting  against  the 
central  pole.  Outwardly  these  hide 
cones  were  painted  in  red  figures  re- 
calling fights  and  the  feats  of  warriors. 
Internally  soft  carpets  of  fur  were  laid 
around  the  circle,  and  the  zone  furthest 
from  the  fire  in  the  centre  was  divided 
off  into  apartments  by  screens  of  sinew 
lattice.  Reclining  there,  the  story  and 
song  and  laughter  were  heard  as 
cheerily  as  in  the  settlers'  or  the 
priests'  abodes.  The  long-stemmed 
pipe,  with  its  head  of  the  red  stone, 
was  lit  by  the  wives  with  greater  at- 
tention to  the  wants  of  the  aged  or  the 
chief  than  I  have  seen  in  the  huts  of 
the  fathers.  And  if  the  tobacco  were 
not  the  same,  if  it  were  mixed  with  the 
willow,  a  herb  esteemed  from  of  old, 
was  not  the  mixture  of  the  Northern 
with  the  Southern  plants  a  change  for 
the  better?  Yes,  just  as  the  Northern 
air  must  be   better  than  the  wet  heat 


of  the  South.  Ah,  who  can  breathe 
the  breath  of  the  prairie  and  not  long 
for  the  winds  and  perfume  to  fill  again 
lungs  and  throat  and  mouth!  Who 
that  has  seen  the  lilies  of  the  spring 
and  the  yellow  blossoms  of  the  autumn 
spread  in  oceans  of  green  and  gold 
and  star-sown  spaces  under  foot  can 
withhold  a  longing  for  the  sense  of 
power  that  clear  eyesight  and  elastic 
tread  can  alone  give  to  the  voyageur? 
Then  even  the  winter  cold  brings  the 
feeling  of  grandeur  and  of  bounty,  if 
man  has  provided  in  the  certain  and 
abounding  summer  for  the  as  certain 
restfulness  of  winter.  If  antelope  be 
few  and  buffalo  fail  there  has  always 
been  the  splendid  procession  of  the 
wild  fowl,  of  duck  and  goose  and 
swan,  in  spring  and  in  autumn.  More 
birds  would  fall  to  our  guns  than  we 
could  use  for  food. 

But  I  repeat  too  much  the  thought 
that  made  my  tame  life  at  the  mission 
distasteful.  I  determined  to  go  again 
to  the  Sioux.  Their  chief  was  one 
who  was  beloved  by  the  tribes.  I  had 
known  of  his  trials.  I  had  heard  of 
his  determination  to  try  his  strength 
against  the  Americans.  I  went  to  him. 
He  received  me  as  a  son  might  be  by 
a  stern  but  indulgent  father.  He  scarce 
spoke  a  word.  But  I  saw  that  his  eye 
was  mild.  I  told  him  I  could  be  of 
service  to  him  as  a  teamster,  as  one 
who  had  knowledge  of  the  white  men. 
A  lodge  was  assigned  to  me.  I  dressed, 
marched,  hunted  and  lived  again  as  an 
Indian.  Happiness  was  again  mine. 
I  was  one  of  the  living. 

The  chief  was  that  remarkable  man 
known  among  them  as  the  "  Sitting 
Bull."  He  had  made  his  preparations 
for  what  the  whites  called  rebellion. 
He  called  the  war  he  had  determined 
on  revenge  for  injuries  inflicted  by  the 
whites.  He  called  it  an  assertion  of 
freedom  which  belonged  to  the  children 
of  the  prairie  from  of  old.  Had  they 
not  been  confined  like  cattle  to  "agen- 
cies "  and  districts  ?  Had  not  the 
buffalo  and  antelope  been  killed  off 
from  before  them  ?  Had  not  any  sur- 
render been  followed  by  trickery  and 
robbery  on  the  part  of  the  agents  at 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


these  "  agencies  "  ?  Had  not  the  pro- 
visions promised  them  by  treaties  been 
shortened  and  pillaged?  Had  not  the 
agents  sold  for  themselves  what  was 
the  Indian's  proper  allotment  ?  And 
now  from  far  and  near,  from  all  places 
where  the  Sioux  and  their  allies  had 
been  coralled  like  cattle,  the  injured 
and  ancient  people  were  to  assemble 
at  the  chiefs  bidding  and  bid  defiance. 
They  had  obtained  good  weapons  of 
war  by  the  fraud  of  the  very  men  sent 
by  the  Americans  to  guard  against  the 
Indians'  obtaining  arms.  The  chief 
was  silent,  determined  and  resourceful. 
His  people  were  silently  strengthened 
each  week  after  I  joined  them  by  many 
who  came,  some  bringing  their  women 
with  them.  But  the  hearts  of  the 
women  of  the  tribes  were  heavy  and, 
though  they  also  spoke  little  save  to 
each  other,  they  were  ill  at  ease. 

I  had  found  none  of  the  former 
strangeness  towards  me  shown  when 
I  returned.  Perhaps  it  was  the  order 
of  the  chief,  or  the  knowledge  that  I 
desired  to  be  indeed  one  of  them,  that 
made  them  wholly  friendly.  Perhaps 
it  was  the  sense  that  told  them  that  in 
the  coming  struggle  all  honest  help 
offered  would  be  acceptable.  I  worked 
hard  for  them,  chiefly  as  a  teamster. 
With  *'  Bull  "  himself  I  was  a  frequent 
guest.  All  saw  I  was  his  friend.  I 
still  have  a  drawing  he  made  for  me 
which  gave  again  the  figures  painted 
on  the  sides  of  his  "tepee."  Simple 
these,  and  yet  how  eloquent  now  that 
I  look  back  on  those  days  !  Messen- 
gers came  in  fast  from  distant  places, 
telling  now  how  General  Custer  and 
the  American  cavalry  he  commanded 
were  out  on  the  war-path  against  us. 
Scouts  gave  us  accurate  knowledge  of 
their  strength  and  of  the  route  they 
would  probably  take.  In  front  of  them 
our  people  fled,  but  ever  leaving  be- 
hind them  those  who  spied  out  the 
movements  of  the  troops  and  brought 
intelligence.  Our  ponies  seemed  tire- 
less. Their  big  horses  were  often  sore 
and  wrecked ;  and  one  day,  by  my 
advice,  we  attacked  an  advance  party 
and,  taking  them  prisoners  without 
their  being  able  to  fire  a  shot,  sent  the 


men,  unarmed,  in  front  of  us  and  covered 
by  our  rifles,  to  ride  by  a  track  that 
misled  the  white  men  who  followed. 
And  so  we  succeeded  in  leading  .  a 
number  far  away  from  the  main  body 
we  designed  to  fight  in  another  place. 
The  troops  we  led  astray  by  compelling 
the  advanced  party  to  march  where  we 
drove  them  and  where  we  killed  them, 
never  got  back  to  their  main  column 
in  time  to  assault  us.  They  arrived 
too  late. 

I  will  tell  of  this  in  a  moment;  let 
me  detail  the  main  event.  Another 
hint  I  had  given  to  the  chief  was  one 
that  fortunately  had  a  good  result, 
although  it  depended  on  our  being  at- 
tacked in  a  selected  place.  The  spot, 
however,  was  not  hard  to  know,  for 
horses  could  only  advance  with  ease 
where  he  provided  the  difficulty.  An 
opening  between  hills  indicated  our 
position  of  defence.  In  the  level  space 
between  was  long  grass.  This  we 
pleated  and  knotted  in  strong,  rope-like 
strands.  We  rightly  calculated  that 
our  enemies'  heavy  horses  would  be 
tripped  by  these  withes.  We  strength- 
ened them  with  willow  branches,  but 
none  could  tell  that  they  were  there. 
So  we  prepared  for  war.  But  in  the 
midst  of  these  alarms  came  the  con- 
trast of  an  episode  of  peace. 

Happiness  was  again  to  come  to  me, 
a  white  streak  of  sunlight  amid  the  red 
carnage  of  sorrow.  These  contrasts 
are  never-ending  in  human  life.  It 
may  be  because  the  All  Giver  knows 
how  to  make  his  gifts  most  beloved. 
I  had  determined  to  marry  a  girl  whom 
in  boyhood  I  liked,  for  she  had  been 
fond  of  me  when  many  persecuted  me 
as  of  alien  blood.  Such  matters  march 
quickly  with  the  Indians.  I  told  the 
chief  I  wanted  her.  He  gave  a  grunt 
and  a  nod.  That  evening  she  was  in 
my  lodge  !  Yes,  you  see  these  children 
of  nature  do  not  hesitate.  The  chief 
had  received  me  in  the  early  morning 
in  front  of  his  tepee.  A  sturdy  figure, 
with  broad  brow  and  feathered  with 
two  black  and  white  bird  tail  feathers, 
his  body  clothed  in  leather,  with  a 
triple  row  of  the  milk  teeth  of  his 
Wapiti  deer  across  breast  and  back — 


THE  HALF-BREED'S  STORY 


223 


his  erect  bearing  while  he  received 
news  from  scouts  and  gave  directions 
to  the  mounted  men  who  rode  up  to 
him  with  news  of  the  enemy — seems  to 
be  before  my  eyes  as  I  write.  The 
thin  vapour  of  the  camp  rising  through 
the  clear  air,  the  undulating  swell  of 
the  country,  broken  often  in  one  direc- 
tion by  blue  river  waters  that  shone 
steel-blue  to  the  sky  that  gave  them 
colour,  the  "cut  banks"  of  these 
streams  where  there  was  plain,  and 
their  disappearance  in  ravines  and  near 
darksome  masses  of  bluff  and  rough 
low  cliffs — this  was  the  landscape  be- 
hind the  warlike  figures  and  their 
camp.  Stern,  dark,"  keen-eyed  men, 
with  noses  like  the  ponies  they  rode, 
with  great  cheek-bones  and  searching 
brown  eyes.  I  feared  they  would  be 
massacred  by  the  .American  warriors. 

My  girl-wife  was  anxious  when  I 
told  her  all  I  knew  of  them  and  of  their 
brave  commander,  Custer,  but  she  said 
not  a  word.  She  only  looked  at  me, 
and  drank  in  all  I  said  with  long  and 
wistful  and,  I  thought  also,  loving 
looks.     Next  day  came  the  fight. 

We  saw  from  the  higher  lands  the 
advance  of  the  cavalry.  They  had  laid 
aside  their  swords.  They  rode  in  a 
long  line,  with  many  paces  distance 
between  each  man,  behind  them  the 
main  body,  but  divided,  one  set  ap- 
pearing far  away  to  our  left  where  the 
ground  was  broken  and  they  were 
soon  lost  to  sight.  We  knew  our 
parties  in  that  direction  would  not 
leave  them  alone.  Our  enemies  had 
hats  with  wide  rims  turned  up  on  one 
side.  The  shots  now  could  be  heard, 
but  we  let  few  fire.  Their  men  kept 
up  a  heavy  fusilade.  Our  plan  was  to 
lure  them  on.  We  wished  both  the 
divisions  on  our  left  and  centre  to  come 
in  well  to  the  uneven  ground.  They 
seemed  to  obey  our  wishes  like  chil- 
dren. We  were  all  around  them  when 
the  chief  gave  the  word,  and  very 
many  fell.  The  remainder,  instead  of 
separating,  got  closer  together  and 
tried  to  charge.  Their  horses  stumbled 
and  men  fell  by  the  score.  They  again 
massed  closer  and  fired  three  volleys. 
These  were  their  last.   We  were  among 


them,  shooting  them  down  and  sparing 
none.  I  have  seen  six  shots  put  into 
one  man.  Their  scalps  were  now 
staining  our  horses'  shoulders.  We 
took  many,  and  wished  to  take  more, 
for  their  division  on  the  far-away  left 
point  was  still  in  the  field.  They,  too, 
had  lost  many,  but  got  into  the  rough 
ground  of  a  hill  above  the  willow  and 
poplar  groves  of  a  river  bank.  There 
most  of  them  remained,  and  we, 
knowing  that  they  must  go  but  would 
take  many  lives  if  we  attacked,  let 
them  retreat  next  morning.  We  had 
fought  with  gallant  men.  May  their 
spirits  dwell  with  ours  in  peace  in 
Heaven's  Prairies,  where  my  wife 
Metisa  and  1  hope  to  live  for  ever! 
Her  father  said  so.  The  mission 
fathers  say  so.   Why  should  it  not  be? 

One  thing  that  is  good  in  the  prairie 
life  is  that  we  know  what  we  see.  The 
air  is  clear.  We  can  believe  our  eyes. 
We  also  believe  what  we  say.  Save 
in  war  we  deceive  not.  We  are  now 
again  at  peace.  I  did  not  go  with  Sit- 
ting Bull,  our  beloved  chief,  when,  after 
many  years  of  patient  endurance  of 
exile  in  Canada,  he  surrendered,  only 
to  be  murdered  by  the  agency  people 
who  had  never  forgiven  him  his  victory. 
My  wife  and  I  remained  in  Canada, 
where  I  resumed  my  life  again  and 
was  thankful  that  I  had  a  knowledge 
of  the  country  from  my  previous  wan- 
derings. Where  can  we  see  greater 
plenty  than  among  the  white  men  in 
Manitoba?  It  is,  indeed,  the  country 
of  Manito — the  country  of  God.  My 
children  own  more  wheat  than  would 
have  fed  our  Sioux  camp  for  three 
generations.  They  drive  their  horses 
and  ploughs  through  seas  of  yellow 
grain.  My  little  bride,  wedded  on  the 
eve  of  the  great  fight,  is  now  a  grand- 
mother, a  queen  of  a  tribe  of  my 
descendants.  Metisma  we  call  her  no 
more,  but  "little  mother."  She  has 
seen  her  children's  children  and  they 
have  called  her  blessed,  as  the  mission 
people  say. 

No  one  hungers  in  Canada's  prair- 
ies. We  knew  hunger  sometimes  of 
old.  The  Canadians  hunger  only  for 
renown. 


ROBERTS  AND  THE   INFLUENCES  OF 

HIS  TIME 

By  JAMES  CAPPON,  Professor  oj  English^   Queen's  University 
A  SERIES  OF  FOUR  ARTICLES  OF  WHICH  THIS  IS  NUMBER  ONE 


I.— LITERARY  WORLD  OF  TO-DAY 

R.  ROBERTS  has  been  be- 
fore the  public  as  a  poet 
for  about  a  quarter  of  a 
century.  During  that  time 
some  six  or  seven  volumes 
of  verse  have  come  from  his  hands, 
and  in  1901  a  general  collection  of  his 
poems  was  published  in  one  volume. 
In  a  prefatory  note  to  this  last  volume 
he  tells  us  that  it  contains  everything 
he  cares  to  preserve  of  the  poetry  he 
had  written  before  the  end  of  1898. 
To  this  he  has  recently  added  a  small 
volume,  The  Rose  of  Life,  so  that  the 
reader  will  find  in  those  two  books  all 
that  the  poet  himself  cares  to  give  him, 
or  would  like  to  be  judged  by. 

But  though  Mr.  Roberts  is  so  well 
known  by  name  to  the  public,  and  is 
certainly  the  most  distinguished  of 
our  Canadian  poets,  of  those,  at  any 
rate,  who  use  the  English  language, 
it  cannot  be  said  that  his  poetry  has 
taken  any  wide  or  deep  hold  of  the 
Canadian  people.  In  fact,  with  the 
exception  of  a  sonnet  or  two  which 
appear  regularly  in  the  new  anthol- 
ogies, it  is  doubtful  if  the  poetry  of 
Roberts  is  at  all  well  known  outside  of  a 
limited  circle  of  readers  mostly  profes- 
sional or  semi-professional  in  their 
relation  to  literature.  Some  of  these 
struggle  valiantly  to  keep  alive  a  lan- 
guid public  interest  on  the  subject  of 
Canadian  poetry  and  poets  by  warm 
eulogies  in  the  magazines  or  highly 
optimistic  utterances  at  literary  confer- 
ences. But  literary  conferences  can 
do  nothing  to  create  a  public  interest 
in  poetry  which  the  poetry  itself  has 
failed  to  excite.  As  often  as  not  the 
indiscriminate  and  universal  eulogy 
which  one  hears  at  such  gatherings, 
or    reads    in    perfunctory    reviews    of 


Canadian  literature,  only  dulls  and 
confuses  the  public  mind  and  leaves  it 
with  some  very  reasonable  suspicion  as 
to  the  value  of  poetry  and  higher  liter- 
ature in  general.  It  is  a  very  differ- 
ent kind  of  seed  that  must  be  sown 
before  the  great  new  democracies  of 
to-day  will  show  as  lively  and  as  criti- 
cal an  interest  in  these  things  as  the 
aristocratic  and  aristocratically  trained 
societies  of  the  past  did.  What  we 
need  is  not  a  blare  of  trumpets  and 
loud  proclamations  that  "  Canada  has 
a  literature," or  a  "Burns"  or  a  "Ten- 
nyson," but  a  candid  and  reverent  criti- 
cism that  will  show  the  true  value  of 
imaginative  literature  and  the  part  it 
is  playing,  nobly  or  ignobly,  for  it  can 
do  both,  in  our  general  life. 

It  is  quite  true  that  some  forms  of 
literature  now  receive  a  more  generous 
support  from  the  public  than  they  ever 
did  before.  The  modern  novelist,  for 
example,  has  an  immense  and  indulg- 
ent public  in  the  hosts  of  those  who 
have  money  and  leisure  and  are  will- 
ing to  amuse  themselves  with  a  story 
when  they  are  not  at  the  theatre  or 
playing  "  bridge."  The  modern  maga- 
zine writer  and  journalist  also  has  a 
public  which  has  converted  ancient 
Grub  Street  into  one  of  the  opulent 
and  respected  quarters  of  the  earth. 
Bettdr  still,  it  is  true  that  poetry  of  a 
really  first-rate  quality  in  its  kind  has 
as  large  an  audience  as  it  ever  had, 
whether  it  be  the  highly  critical  poetry 
of  Browning  or  the  popular  lyric  of 
Kipling.  The  poetry  of  Omar  Khay- 
yam, for  example,  which  has  had  the 
good  luck  to  be  so  translated  in  the 
curiously  appropriate  rhythms  of  Fitz- 
gerald that  even  to  the  common  ear  it 
has  become  the  perfect  expression  of 
one  great  chord  in  life,  goes  every- 
where, watering  like  a  hidden  brook 


ROBERTS  AND  THE  INFLUENCES  OF  HIS  TIMES 


225 


the  dusty  ways  of  the  everyday  world. 
The  Rubaiyat  is  read,  as  Macandrew's 
Hymn  is  read,  by  those  who  care  little 
in  general  for  poetry.  But  there  are 
other  forms  of  literature  which  have 
almost  suffered  eclipse  under  our  new 
democracies,  at  least  on  this  side  of 
the  Atlantic.  The  old  literary  reviewer, 
for  instance,  has  a  poor  time  amongst 
us,  I  am  afraid.  The  days  when  an 
article  on  Milton  or  Dr.  Johnson  made 
a  sensation  amongst  the  reading  pub- 
lic are  gone  by.  The  modern  reviewer 
must  compress  what  he  has  to  say 
into  a  five-page  article;  he  must  avoid 
literary  and  philosophic  breadth  of 
treatment  and  raise  only  issues  which 
can  be  explained  in  a  paragraph;  or 
he  must  hide  himself  away  in  the  limbo 
of  the  philosophical  reviews.  It  is 
only  in  these  now  that  one  hears  about 
Byron  and  Wordsworth. 

Another  literary  personage  whose 
importance  has  dwindled  greatly  in 
these  modern  times  is  the  old  type  of 
minor  poet,  the  successor,  the  follower 
of  some  great,  established  school  of 
poetry,  the  author  of  odes,  or  epics, 
or  dramas  in  their  classical  form. 
When  one  thinks  of  the  place  which 
such  minor  poets  as  Beattie  and 
Rogers  and  Mrs.  Hemans  held  in  the 
world  of  their  time,  of  the  reverence 
their  works  inspired,  and  the  way  in 
which  they  impressed  themselves  on 
the  culture  of  their  age,  one  sees  what 
a  curious  displacement  of  literary  in- 
terests has  accompanied  the  growth  of 
democracy.  The  culture  which  the 
general  reader  of  to-day  seeks  is 
quantitatively  greater  as  regards  in- 
formation. He  is  quick-brained  and 
has  a  wide  range  of  sensibility;  he 
wants  to  know  something  about  many 
things,  about  railroad  transportation 
and  fish  hatcheries,  about  radioactivity 
and  Japanese  art,  even  a  little  about 
literature  or  the  Middle-ages.  But  he 
does  not  value  the  kind  of  education 
which  the  reading  of  Cowper's  Task 
or  Byron's  Childe  Harold,  or  even 
Washington  Irving's  Sketch-Book 
might  give  him.  His  knowledge  has 
not  the  ethical  centre  or  the  imagina- 
tive  depth  it  used  to   have.    Harpers 


Monthly  Magazine  would  no  longer 
dare,  as  it  did  in  185 1,  to  reprint 
Goldsmith's  Traveller  in  full  or  make 
up  an  issue  mainly  of  articles  on  sub- 
jects like  Washington  Irving  and  the 
Poetry  of  William  CuUen  Bryant,  and 
Extracts  from  the  Conversation  of 
Erasmus  and  Sir  Thomas  More  about 
Plato.  In  many  ways  indeed  the  liter- 
ary atmosphere  of  the  Harpers  of  half 
a  century  ago  is  superior  to  that  of  the 
Harper's  of  to-day.  There  is  an  intel- 
lectual charm  and  repose  about  that  old 
Harper's^  a  poise  of  judgment  and  an 
imaginative  breadth  which  are  lacking 
in  its  more  modern  representative. 
The  imaginative  quality  of  the  illustra- 
tions in  the  latter;  Elizabethan  man- 
sions and  gardens,  old  Italian  cities, 
and  the  ruined  battlements  of  Chateau 
Galliard,  with  the  rooks  fl>ing  about 
them,  does  not  quite  make  up  for  the 
want  of  a  similar  quality  in  the  text. 

The  popular  magazines  have  to 
adapt  themselves,  of  course,  to  the 
taste  of  the  greatest  number  of  their 
readers.  Perhaps  they  have  large- 
ly absorbed  the  public  which  once 
gave  popularity  and  vogue  to  the 
Beatties  and  Youngs  of  a  past  gen- 
eration. They  have  absorbed  it  on 
one  side  while  the  interest  in  scientific 
and  economic  philosophy  has  absorbed 
it  on  the  other.  It  requires  a  very 
solid  habit  of  mind,  indeed,  to  resist 
the  fascinating  variety  of  the  popular 
magazine  of  our  day.  No  form  of  the 
popular  taste  but  is  admirably  studied 
and  catered  for  there.  You  get  the 
latest  economic  estimates  and  the 
latest  wonders  of  science,  storiettes  in 
five  pages,  interviews  with  statesmen 
(which  do  not  as  a  rule  amount  to 
much),  and  with  actresses  (which 
amount  to  more,  sociologically  at 
least),  the  history  of  Rockefeller  or  of 
the  Amalgamated  Copper  Company, 
and  such  piquant  specialties  as  Pro- 
fessor Simon  Newcomb's  vision  of  the 
end  of  the  world,  or  Professor  Boyesen 
of  Harvard's  studies  of  types  of  beauty 
amongst  chorus  girls,  with  illustra- 
tions. If  the  reader  has  a  craving  for 
something  more  ideal,  something  in 
the  higher  regions  of  art  and  literature. 


226 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


the  able  editor  knows  how  to  admin- 
ister an  opiate  in  the  form  of  a  four- 
page  article  on  Velasquez  or  the  Bar- 
bizon  school,  or  it  may  be  on  the 
frescoes  of  the  Pisan  Campo  Santo,  or 
on  Peire  Vidal,  the  Troubadour,  the 
atmosphere  of  the  age  in  such  cases 
being  given,  not  by  the  text,  which  is 
generally  very  poor  in  this  respect,  but 
by  clever  illustrations  in  three-colour 
prints.  A  critical  interest  in  literature 
may  be  represented  by  a  gossipy  ac- 
count of  Tolstoi  with  a  picture  of  him 
at  work  in  the  fields  in  his  peasant's 
blouse,  or  perhaps  by  an  interview 
with  Sudermann,  accompanied  by  a 
translation  of  a  page  or  two  of  Die 
Ehre  or  Im  Zweilicht. 

And  there  is  much  in  the  way  of  in- 
formation in  the  popular  magazine 
that  we  cannot  do  without.  Where 
else  should  we  learn  about  the  iniqui- 
ties of  American  municipalities  and 
the  Standard  Oil  Company,  unless  the 
magazine  editors  endowed  such  re- 
search? How  is  the  minor  poet  who 
once  held  the  ear  of  his  generation 
with  his  epic  or  ode,  even  if  it  was 
unread  by  the  next,  to  compete  with 
all  that  in  our  time  ?  He  loses  faith 
in  his  art  and  begins  to  think  it  is  an 
archaic  tradition,  and  he  probably 
ends  by  seeking  the  protection  of  some 
art  coterie  or  taking  shelter  in  that 
grand  haven  of  refuge  for  distressed 
literary  craft,  journalism.  If  he  has  a 
ready  pen  for  prose  work  he  can  keep 
himself  comfortably  afloat  there,  and 
achieve  a  bye-reputation  in  one  or 
the  other  department  of  literature. 
What  may  happen  to  the  poet  within 
him  is  another  question.  He  may 
grow,  as  Henley  did,  into  a  wild 
Villon-like  grace  and  defiant  candour 
of  utterance  (with  a  touch  of  Alsatian 
swagger  in  it  too,  the  Bilbo  trailing 
conspicuously  at  his  heels);  or  he,  the 
poet,  may  die  in  the  very  opulence  of 
modern  Grub  Street,  or  because  of  the 
over-mastering  spell  of  Vagabondia, 
while  the  man  is  still  alive  and  pub- 
lishing quatrains  in  praise  of  Omar  or 
vers  litre  in  praise  of  life. 

But  whatever  position  the  minor 
poet  may  occupy  in  the  varied  intellec- 


tual activity  of  our  time,  when  he  has 
produced  such  a  notable  quantity  of 
work  as  Roberts  has,  work  represent- 
ing a  strenuous  and  singularly  varied 
effort  at  the  poetic  interpretation  of 
life,  his  career  can  hardly  fail  to  be  an 
interesting  document  in  the  history 
of  his  country  and  his  age.  It  is  not 
always  in  the  great  master  that  you 
can  read  most  clearly  the  character  of 
the  time.  The  great  master  has  a 
way  of  sublimating  into  greatness  all 
the  intellectual  tendencies  of  the  age, 
and  even  its  conceits  and  affectations, 
as  Shakespeare,  for  example,  can 
make  the  euphuism  and  exaggerated 
emphasis  of  the  Elizabethan  period 
pass  muster  with  us.  But  in  the 
minor  poet  you  can  examine  charac- 
teristic modes  of  thought  and  forms 
of  art  with  a  steadier  and  less  dazzled 
eye.  If  you  want  to  understand  the 
standards  of  the  eighteenth  century  in 
verse  you  should  look  at  the  poetry  of 
Garth  and  Addison  as  well  as  at  that 
of  Pope  and  Goldsmith. 


II. 


$9 

-EARLY  POEMS— THE  SCHOOL 
OF   KEATS.     ACTION. 


IT  is  natural  for  a  young  poet  to 
begin  by  following  some  estab- 
lished tradition  in  his  art,  and  Roberts 
started  with  one  of  the  highest.  The 
direct  influence  of  Keats  had  almost 
ceased  to  be  felt  in  English  poetry 
when  the  Canadian  poet  revived  it  in 
its  purest  form  for  his  countrymen. 
His  early  poems  hardly  disguise  the 
fact  that  they  are  imitations  of  Keats, 
and  belong  to  that  new  world  of 
Arcadia  which  the  English  poet  had 
created.  That  poetic  world  which 
Crabbe  and  Wordsworth,  with  their 
naturalism,  thought  they  had  ban- 
ished; that  land  where  the  departed 
gods  and  heroes  of  Hellas  still  live, 
where  the  steps  of  Pan  are  still  heard 
in  the  forest,  and  Thetis  glides  with 
silvery  feet  over  the  waves,  had  been 
revived  for  us  by  the  poet  of  Endymion, 
and  its  green  bowers  had  allured  a 
good  many  poetic  aspirants  into  them, 
amongst     whom     Roberts     may      be 


ROBERTS  AND  THE  INFLUENCES  OF  HIS  TIMES 


227 


counted  as  the  latest,  perhaps  the  last. 
For  the  poetry  of  to-day  is  looking  for 
its  material  in  another  region  where 
the  forms  of  life  are  more  robust  and 
actual  and  the  atmosphere  more  elec- 
trical than  they  are  in  the  old  legend- 
ary world  of  Arcadia.    , 

From  a  philosophic  point  of  view, 
there  was  nothing  very  complete  in 
Keats'  reconstruction  of  the  Greek 
mythology.  But  he  gave  it  all  that 
poetry  needs  to  make  a  new  world  of, 
a  new  sky,  a  new  earth  and  new  seas 
enchanting  as  those  of  fairyland;  he 
filled  its  landscape  with  green  wealth 
and  aerial  minstrelsy  and  every  har- 
monious form  of  beauty  in  shape  or 
sound  or  colour.  But,  more  than  all, 
he  created  the  language  in  which  alone 
this  new  world  could  be  fitly  described, 
a  new  language  of  idyllic  description, 
a  language  of  the  subtlest,  impression- 
istic power  which  could  render  the 
shapes  of  things  seen  in  this  dream- 
land with  a  visionary  distinctness 
altogether  unique.  Its  movement  and 
cadence,  too,  were  unique,  natural  as 
those  of  a  man  talking  to  himself,  yet 
quaint  and  captivating  as  voices  from 
the  cave  of  the  Sibyl: 

"Twas  a  lay 
Moro  subik'-cadenced,  more  forest  wild 
Than  DryojH?  s  lone  lulling^  of  her  child; 
And  nothing  since  has  tloated  on  the  air 
So  mournful  strang^e. 

If  Southey  had  been  able  to  discover 
a  similar  language  for  his  Domdaniels 
and  Padalons  his  grandiose  epics 
would  not  be  where  they  now  are,  but 
that  would  be  saying  that  Southey  had 
a  poetic  genius  which  he  had  not.  The 
line  of  Keats  was  a  marvellous  crea- 
tion, and  made  him  the  indispensable 
master  for  all  the  idyllic  poets  who 
came  after  him.  He  had  the  master's 
secret  of  making  everything  which  he 
touched  new.  His  Apollosand  Naiads 
had  nothing  to  do  with  the  fossilised 
mythology  of  the  eighteenth  century 
poets;  you  never  thought  of  comparing 
them;  you  never  thought  of  his 
•*  leaden-eyed  despairs"  in  connection 
with  the  deliberate  personifications  of 
Collins  or  Gray,  no  more  than  you 
thought  of  the  stiff  framework  of  the 


eighteenth  century  couplet   in   reading 
his  fluent  verse. 

Of  course  there  was  something  in 
his  style  which  remains  inimitable  and 
his  own.  The  imaginative  felicity  of 
his  phrase,  the  passionate  simplicity  of 
his  cry,  the  entire  naturalness  of  his 
movement,  no  one  could  repeat  these. 
But  there  was  also  something  which 
could  be  more  or  less  easily  imitated, 
and  this  became  the  possession  of  a 
whole  school,  and  even  part  of  the 
universal  language  of  poetry.  That 
large,  elusive  epithet,  that  new  reach 
of  synecdoche,  those  novel  compounds, 
that  richly  blazoned  phrase  in  general, 
with  delicate  luxury  and  efflorescence, 
were  readily  appropriated  by  the 
aesthetic  schools  of  poetry.  Phrases 
like  "  argent  revelry,"  "  warm-clois- 
tered hours,"  "tall  oaks  branch- 
charmed  by  the  earnest  stars,"  set  the 
mould  for  a  new  and  finely  sensuous 
impressionism  in  descriptive  poetry. 
The  critics  oi  Blackwood  and  the  Quar- 
terly might  sniff  at  first  at  the  new 
poesy  as  the  sickly  affectation  of  the 
Cockney  School,  but  it  could  not  long 
be  neglected  by  young  poets  seeking 
to  learn  the  secrets  of  colour  and 
rhythm  in  their  art.  The  youthful 
Tennyson  quietly  drew  some  of  his 
finest  threads  for  his  own  loom,  and 
Rossetti,  with  the  whole  lesthetic 
school,  shows  everywhere  the  influence 
of  Keats'  line.  To  most  of  them  he 
was  more  even  than  Shelley,  for  he 
taught  them  more,  though  the  other, 
with  the  star-domed  grandeur  of  his 
universe,  and  his  Titanic  passion  and 
conflict  might  be  the  greater  inspira- 
tion to  them.  William  Rossetti  says 
of  his  famous  brother  that  he  "truly 
preferred  "  Keats  to  Shelley,  "though 
not  without  some  compunctious  visit- 
ings  now  and  then." 

As  to  Wordsworth's  influence,  it  is 
not  surprising  that  there  is  little  or  no 
trace  of  it  in  the  early  work  of  Rob- 
erts, though  it  was  just  the  time  when 
the  reputation  of  the  sage  and  singer 
of  Rydal  Mount  was  in  its  second 
bloom  with  the  public,  owing  mainly 
to  the  fine  and  discriminating  criticism 
of  Arnold.      But  the  young    poets   of 


228 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


the  ieathetic  school  disliked  Words- 
worth. They  hated  the  plain  texture 
of  his  style  and  its  want  of  colour.  It 
mig^ht,  however,  have  been  well  tor 
Roberts  if  he  had  come  under  the 
influence  of  Wordsworth's  simplicity 
,  and  candour  at  this  formative  period 
of  his  life. 

But,  for  better  or  worse,  the  school 
of  Keats  was  that  in  which  Mr.  Rob- 
erts received  his  training.  He  simply 
lives  at  this  period  in  that  green  world 
of  neo-classical  idyllism  which  Keats 
had  created.  The  style  of  the  master, 
his  colour,  his  rhythmical  movement, 
his  manner  of  treating  his  subject,  are 
reproduced  with  the  interesting,  but 
somewhat  deceptive  similitude  which 
a  copy  always  gives  of  a  great  original. 
In  the  Ode  to  Droivsihood  we  hear  the 
well-known  lyrical  cry: 

Ah!  fetch  thy  poppy  baths,  juices  exprest 
In  fervid  sunshine,  where  the  Javan  palm 
Stirs,  scarce  awakened  from  its  odorous 
calm 

By  the  enervate  wind, 

and  in  the  stanzas  of  the  Ariadne 
almost  every  epithet  and  every  verb 
recall  something  which  is  familiar  to 
us  in  the  manner  of  the  master: 

Hung  like  a  rich  pomegranate  o'er  the  sea 
The  ripened  moon;  along  the  tranced  sand 

The  feather-shadowed  ferns  drooped  dream- 
fully, 

The  solitude's  evading  harmony 

Mingled  remotely  over  sea  and  land; 

A  light  wind  woke  and  whispered  warily. 
And  myriad  ripples  tinkled  on  the  strand. 

That  poetry  is  steeped  in  the  rich 
Tyrian  dye  of  Keats'  fancy,  and  the 
luxury  of  sense  impression  which  is  so 
marked  in  the  work  of  the  master  is 
the  too  exclusive  quality  of  the  dis- 
ciple's. For  after  all  there  is  an  ethical 
element  in  the  poetry  of  Keats  which 
Roberts  does  not  reproduce  so  well, 
an  insistence  on  the  spirituality  and 
the  healthfulness  of  beauty  which  runs 
through  all  the  work  of  the  English 
poet  and  gives  its  special  flavour  to 
many  of  his  finest  passages.  It  is  the 
ascetic  element  needed  to  complete  the 
chord  in  Keats,  without  which  his 
poetry  would  be  rather  overpowering 
in  its  sensuous  richness.  Every  one 
knows  the  opening  lines  of  Endymion 


and  the  fine  outburst  in  The  Ode  to  a 
Grecian  Urn'. 

Heard  melodies  are  sweet,  but  those  unheard 
Are  sweeter;  therefore,  ye  soft  pipes,  play 
on; 

Not  to  the  sensual  ear,  but,  more  endeared, 
Pipe  to  the  spirit  ditties  of  no  tone. 

The  epic  of  Orion,  Mr.  Roberts' 
most  ambitious  eff'ort,  though  he  pre- 
serves only  a  fragment  of  it  in  the  one 
volume  edition  of  his  poems,  also  be- 
longs to  this  early  period.  The  ma- 
terial is  still  that  of  the  Keatsian  idyll, 
a  romantic  treatment  of  mythical 
Greek  figures,  sylvan  deities.  Arcadian 
shepherd  kings,  with  a  luxurious  im- 
pressionistic treatment  of  Arcadian 
landscape  as  its  background.  The 
style  is  often  highly  aff"ected: 

And  now  it  was  about  the  set  of  sun, 

And  the  west  sea-line  with  its  quivering  rim 

Had  iiid  the  sun-god's  curls. 

In  the  descriptive  parts  the  line  is 
too  often  burdened  with  epithets,  the 
search  for  aesthetic  picturesque  mate- 
rial taking  up  the  energy  which  might 
go  into  deeper  forms  of  characteris- 
ation: 

For  there  the  deep-eyed  night 
Looked  down  on  me;  unflagging  voices  called 
P'rom  unpent  waters  falling;  tireless  wings 
Of  long  winds  bare  me  tongueless  messages 
From  slar-consulting,  silent  pinnacles; 
•And  breadth,  and  depth,  and  stillness  fath- 
ered me. 

So  Orion  discourses.  Allow  for  the 
remote  legendary  atmosphere  of  the 
tale  and  the  manner  in  which  the  mys- 
terious converse  of  a  demi-god  with 
the  ancient  elemental  voices  of  mother 
earth  must  be  communicated,  that 
style  is  still  a  hollow  and  overwrought 
form;  it  depends  almost  entirely  on  a 
vague  impressionism  which  does  not 
succeed  in  fixing  truly  the  imaginative 
shape  of  the  things  swimming  in  its 
vision.  This  inchoate,  formless  char- 
acter of  the  imaginative  power  is  easily 
felt  in  the  epithets  which  are  so  pre- 
tentious and  yet  express  so  little  inti- 
mate or  real  experience. 

It  could  hardly  be  otherwise.  The 
poem  of  Orion  is  grandiose  and  empty 
because  the  young  poet  is  moving  in  a 
world  at  once  too  vast  and  too  attenu- 
ated   in  the    forms    of    its    life  to    be 


ROBERTS  AND  THE  INFLUENCES  OF  HIS  TIMES 


229 


treated  on  this  epic  scale.  It  needed  the 
overflowing'  imagination  of  a  Keats  to 
fill  that  world  with  the  contours  and 
colours  of  life  suitable  to  it,  with 
deities  and  piping  fauns,  with  naiads 
and  shepherds,  rural  festivals  and 
choral  hymns,  and  all  the  legendary 
motley  of  Arcadia.  It  needed  all  the 
magic  of  his  style  and  his  exquisite 
touch  in  nature  description  to  over- 
come its  huge  artificiality.  Even  in 
him  its  main  interest  and  only  under- 
lying reality  was  the  idyllic  representa- 
tion of  nature  which  he  could  blend  so 
happily  with  that  old  Greek  symbolism. 
His  Arcadian  personages,  although 
there  are  brilliant  traits  in  their  make- 
up, stand  for  nothing. 

After  Orion  Roberts  seems  to  have 
felt  some  decay  of  the  impulse  towards 
classical  mythological  themes.  He 
had  celebrated  his  entry  into  the  re- 
gion of  Arcadian  song  in  a  character- 
istically high  and  jubilant  strain: 

Surely  I  have  seen  the  majesty  and  wonder 
Beauty,  might  and  splendour  of  the  soul  of 
song; 
Surely  I  have  felt  the  spell  that  lifts  asunder 
Soul  from  body,  when  lips  faint  and  thought 
is  strong. 

Anche  to  son  pocta!  But  now,  in 
Iterumne,  he  seems  to  breathe  a 
mournful  farewell  to  Arcadian  legend. 
The  breeze,  he  complains,  is  no  longer 
blowing  from  Thessalian  Tempe  and 
the  swift  Peneus,  no  vision  of  goddess 
or  Dryad  comes  to  him  any  more: 

Ah  me!  No  wind  from  golden  Thessaly 
Blows  in  on  me  as  in  the  golden  days; 
No  morning  music  from  its  dew-sweet  ways. 

No  pipings,  such  as  came  so  clear  to  me 

Out  of  green  meadows  by  the  sparkling  sea; 
No  goddess  any  more,  no  Dryad  strays. 
And  glorifies  with  songs  the  laurel  maze; 

Or  else  I  hear  not  and  I  cannot  see. 

For  out  of  weary  hands  is  fallen  the  Ij're, 
And  sobs  in  falling;  all  the  purple  glow 
From  weary  eyes  is  faded,  which  before 

Saw  bright  Apollo  and  the  blissful  choir 
In  every  mountain  grove.     Nor  can  I  know 
If  I  shall  surely  see  them  any  more. 

Very  weary,  surely,  are  the  hands 
and  eyes  of  one-and-twenty !  But 
some  reaction  from  the  first  ecstasy  of 
young  inspiration  was  natural,  and 
the  poet  may  already  have  begun  to 
feel  some  shrinking  and  fading  in  that 


Arcadian  world  of  his  fancy.  Prob- 
ably also  he  was  beginning  to  suspect 
that  the  temper  of  the  age  was  not  so 
favourable  to  that  remote  visionary 
treatment  of  life  as  it  once  had  been. 
Besides,  although  the  character  of  Mr. 
Roberts'  talent  is  decidedly  of  the  high 
traditional  literary  kind,  he  has  also, 
as  one  may  see  from  his  later  career, 
strong  popular  instincts,  and  he  would 
soon  realise  that  to  reach  any  wide 
public  in  Canada  he  must  choose 
themes  with  more  of  the  actual  life 
and  interests  of  to-day  in  them. 

But  though  Mr.  Roberts  after  this 
period  began  to  seek  a  less  remote 
kind  of  subject  for  his  song,  he  has 
never  altogether  deserted  the  old  fields 
of  Greek  legend.  From  time  to  time 
the  wind  blows  again  from  Thessalian 
Tempe  and  brings  us  a  strain  or  two 
of  the  old  music.  Indeed,  Actceon, 
which  was  published  in  1887  in  the 
volume  In  Divers  Tones,  is  Roberts' 
most  successful  achievement  in  the 
region  of  classical  idyll.  But  the  man- 
ner in  which  he  treats  his  subject  is  no 
longer  that  of  Keats  and  his  school, 
not  purely  at  least.  He  combines  it 
with  a  dramatic  monologue  in  that 
psychological  style  which  Browning 
has  made  so  familiar  to  us.  The  sub- 
ject of  the  poem  is  the  story  of 
Actason's  death,  but  it  is  told  by  '*a 
woman  of  Plataea,"  who  is  supposed  to 
have  witnessed  the  tragedy,  and  is 
converted  by  it  from  scepticism  to  fear 
the  gods.  The  first  part  of  the  poem, 
in  which  the  Platasan  woman  tells  the 
story  of  her  own  life,  is  modelled  in 
some  extent  on  the  close,  tense,  psycho- 
logical movement  of  Browning,  and 
his  realistic  manner  of  presenting  his 
personages  in  dramatic  monologue. 
Even  the  style  at  times  has  familiar 
touches,  a  curt  emphasis  and  rough, 
dramatic  cuts  in  the  verse,  which 
remind  us  of  Browning;  though,  on 
the  whole,  it  is  Tennysonian,  spun  out 
of  the  mingled  simplicity  and  ornate- 
ness  of  Tennyson's  diction.  The 
second  part  of  the  poem,  in  which 
the  woman  tells  the  story  of  Actaeon's 
death,  is  wholly  descriptive,  the  mate- 
rial being  legendary  idyllic,  and  treated 


230 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


in  the  smooth,  remote  manner  natural 
to  the  Arcadian  idyll. 

Here  are  some  lines  from  the  intro- 
ductory part,  in  which  the  Plataean 
woman  discourses  on  the  nature  of 
the  gods.  You  can  see  the  brusque 
jets  of  Browning's  manner  mingling 
with  the  more  languid  and  musical 
phrase  of  Tennyson.  The  psychology 
is  very  simple,  but  there  is  a  certain 
piquancy  in  this  presentation  of  scep- 
ticism in  a  Greek  dress: 

I  have  lived  long  and  served  the  god,  and 

drawn 
Small  joy  and    liberal    sorrow— scorned     the 

gods, 
And  drawn  no  less  my  little  meed  of  good, 
Suffered  my  ill  in  no  more  grievous  measure. 

Ay,  have  I  sung,  and  dreamed  that  they  would 

hear, 
And  worshipped,  and  made  offerings — it  may 

be 
They  heard,  and  did  perceive,  and  were  well 

pleased — 
A  little  music  in  their  ears,  perchance, 
A  grain  more  savor  to  their  nostrils,  sweet 
Tho'  scarce  accounted  of.     But  when  for  me 
The  mists  of  Acheron  have  striven  up. 
And    horror  was   shed   round   me;  when  my 

knees 
Relaxed,   my  tongue  clave  speechless,  they 

forgot. 
And  when  my   sharp  cry   cut   the   moveless 

night,  , 

And  days  and  nights  my  wailings  clamoured  up 
And  beat  about  their  golden  homes,  perchance 
They  shut  their  ears.     No  happy  music  this. 
Eddying  through  their  nectar  cups  and  calmT 
Then  I  cried  out  against  them,  and  died  not; 
And  rose  and  set  me  to  my  daily  tasks. 
So  all  day  long,  with  bare,  uplift  right  arm. 
Drew  out  the  strong  thread  from  the  carded 

wool. 
Or  wrought  strange   figures,  lotus-buds  and 

serpents. 
In  purple  on  the  himation's  saffron  fold; 
Nor  uttered  praise  with  the  slim-wristed  girls 
To  any  god,  nor  uttered  any  prayer. 

There  are  some  fine  natural  traits 
in  the  picture  of  the  Plataean  woman, 
and,  on  the  whole,  she  is  the  mostlife- 
like  of  the  few  human  figures,  myth- 
ical or  modern,  that  appear  in  Roberts' 
poems.  But  she  is  strangely  out  of 
place  in  the  atmosphere  of  a  mythus. 
Her  personality  and  speech  have  the 
realistic  accent  of  a  historic  time,  and 
refuse  absolutely  to  blend  with  the 
figures  of  a  mythopoetic  age  which 
witnessed     the     metamorphosis    of 


Actaeon  and  saw  the  gods  of  Olympus 
walking  on  the  earth.  There  are  two 
different  atmospheres  in  the  poem 
fundamentally  discordant  with  each 
other,  and  the  manner  in  which  the 
poet  connects  the  two  is  at  best  an 
ingenious  artifice  without  psycholog- 
ical truth  or  significance.  But  though 
the  psychological  basis  of  the  poem  is 
weak,  it  has  its  merits  as  a  tale  told 
fluently  and  with  a  certain  subtlety  of 
art.  It  has,  too,  in  the  latter  part  a 
fine  background  of  descriptive  impres- 
sionism such  as  the  legendary  idyll 
requires: 

Cithaeron,  bosomed  deep  in  soundless  hills. 
Its  fountained  vales,  its  nights  of  starry  calm. 
Its  high,  chill  dawns,  its  long-drawn,  golden 
days. 

The  description  of  the  *'  homeless 
pack  "  is  good,  and  that  closing  touch 
about  the  wind  that  blows  down  on 
them  and  dies  away  in  the  dark — an 
aesthetic  consonance  of  nature  cover- 
ing her  huge,  elemental  indifference  to- 
wards human  fate — shows  the  delicate 
sensibility  of  the  poet  in  this  direction. 

Off  Pelorus  is  another  excursion 
into  the  region  of  classical  legend,  and 
illustrates  the  artistic  variety  of  Mr. 
Roberts'  experiments  in  moulds  and 
metres.  It  tells  the  old  tale  of  Ulysses 
and  the  Sirens  in  a  manner  which  com- 
bines the  characteristic  qualities  of 
two  or  three  of  the  great  poets  of  the 
aesthetic  and  impressionistic  schools,  the 
romantic  and  almost  effeminate  treat- 
ment which  Tennyson  gives  classical 
legend,  the  luxurious  warmth  of 
phrase  and  the  fulness  of  picturesque 
detail  which  one  finds  in  some  poems 
of  Keats's,  and  the  passionate,  lyrical 
movement,  heightened  by  alliterative 
emphasis,  which  is  characteristic  of 
Swinburne. 

Crimson  swims  the  sunset  over  far  Pelorus: 
Burning  crimson  tops  its  frowning  crest  of 
pine. 
Purple  sleeps  the  shore  and  floats  the  wave 
before  us, 
Eachwhere    from    the    oar-stroke   eddying 
warm  like  wine. 

The  measure  actually  used,  however, 
is  that  of  Browning  in  the  Epilogue  to 
Ferishstah's    Fancies^    with   the    omis- 


AN  EMPTY  COT 


231 


sion  of  a  foot  in  the  second  and  fourth 
lines  of  the  stanza,  which  shortens  its 
majestic  stride  and  lowers  the  heroic 
cadences  slig^htly.  That  "eachwhere" 
represents  a  certain  recklessness  char- 
acteristic of  Roberts,  and  so  does,  in  a 
still  deeper  way,  the  violent  expedient 
by  which  he  manages  to  introduce  the 
Siren's  song.  He  makes  the  sailors 
guess  its  words  from  the  expressive 
struggle  of  Ulysses  to  free  himself 
from  his  bonds. 

On  the  whole,  we  cannot  rate  very 
highly  this  Greek  legendary  element  in 
the  poetry  of  Roberts.  It  needs  an 
utter  perfection  of  style  and  a  fancy 
of  exquisite  delicacy  to  wake  these 
old  and  very  decayed  chords  in  the  his- 
tory of  our  civilisation  into  life  again. 
The  highly  cultivated  interest  in  liter- 
ature which  welcomes  such  produc- 
tions as  the  Endymion,  or  Aubrey  de 
Vere's  Lycius  and  Swinburne's  Ata- 
lanta^  is  confined  to  a  comparatively 
small  class,  and  it  must  be  a  master- 
piece in  this  species  of  poetry  that  a 
busy  world  is  not  very  willing  to  let 
die.  It  takes  the  supreme  art  of  a 
Virgil  and  a  Milton  to  repeat  the  cry 
of  the  Daphnis  song,  "  O  Pan,  Pan," 
with  anything  like  success,  and  only 
the  imaginative  power  of  a  Keats  can 


charm  us  into  thinking  that  we  feel  once 
more  the  underlying  realities  of  that 
old  Arcadian  nature-worship.  For  it 
had  a  certain  reality  as  a  mode  of  in- 
terpreting the  vague  voices  that  come 
from  nature  to  man,  and  poetry  like 
that  of  Keats  had  a  power  of  putting 
us  into  some  vital  contact  with  its 
ancient  pieties.  But  anything  less 
genuine  is  apt  to  be  a  mere  academic 
exercise  which  gives  us  only  an  arti- 
ficial and  obsolete  framework  to  look 
at.  The  Lycidas  and  the  Lamia  do  not 
grow  old  or  out  of  fashion,  but  who 
speaks  of  the  Lycius  or  the  Search 
After  Proserpine  now?  Mr.  Roberts 
plays  sweetly  enough  on  his  "shep- 
herd's pipe  of  Arcady."  His  melodies 
were  learned  in  the  finest  school  of 
that  art  and  he  shows  a  wonderful 
facility  in  absorbing  the  finest  tones 
and  hues  of  the  school  and  giving  them 
forth  again  in  moulds  which  have  a 
certain  novelty,  yet  just  lack  the  stamp 
of  true  originality.  There  is  a  strain 
of  medley,  too,  in  his  song  which  old 
Palaemon  should  have  detected  and 
checked.  But  he,  I  think,  is  drowsing 
in  these  times,  and  has  fallen  into  his 
old  fashion  of  lazily  bestowing  the 
heifer  on  all  comers:  Et  vitula  tu  dig- 
rtuSf  et  hie,   et  quisquis 


TO    BE    CONTINUED 


AN    EM  PTY    COT 

BY   WINIFRED    ARMSTROKG 

WHEN  the  sun  sets  in  the  cold  grey  sky. 
And  I  call  the  children  to  rest. 
And  tuck  each  one  with  a  kiss,  and  a  sigh, 
In  their  cosy  little  nest. 

As  I  whisper  soft  in  their  sleepy  ears — 
**  God  keep  you  safe  all  night," 

I  find  my  eyes  are  full  of  tears 

Though  I  try  to  keep  them  bright. 

For  away  in  a  corner  I  seem  to  see, 

In  a  quiet,  darkened  spot — 
A  little  form  that  is  gone  from  me. 

And  a  little  empty  cot. 

I  pray  God  lessen  the  endless  pain, 

To  comfort  the  one,  whose  lot 
It  has  been  to  ^ow  the  loneliness 

Of  a  little,  enii^  cot. 


SIR  JOHN  BEVERLEY  ROBINSON 

By  THE  EDITOR 


COKING  over  the  lives  of 
the  prominent  men  of  the 
country,  there  is  abundant 
evidence  of  a  similarity  of 
influences  which  combined 
to  make  them  famous.  In  the  first 
place,  there  are  the  influences  of  boy- 
hood, which  instil  into  them  the 
notion  that  they  may  some  day  play 
a  prominent  part  in  the  aff'airs  of 
the  nation.  This  particular  set  of  in- 
fluences may  come  through  ancestral 
traditions,  school  connections,  or  some 
other  early  conditions.  In  the  second 
place,  there  must  be  a  certain  con- 
fidence in  their  own  abilities.  The 
man  who  mistrusts  himself  seldom 
rises  high.  Timidity  will  do  much  to 
bring  defeat.  In  the  third  place,  there 
must  be  great  tenacity  of  purpose,  a 
refusal  to  see  possible  defeat.  To 
such  men  defeat  means  only  the  occa- 
sion for  the  exercise  of  greater  effort. 
In  the  fourth  place,  there  must  be 
an  unlimited  power  of  gathering,  clas- 
sifying and  retaining  knowledge. 
Knowledge  is  power,  and  the  ability 
to  use  knowledge  to  the  best  advan- 
tage is  genius. 

An  excellent  example  of  a  career 
which  was  made  by  a  fortunate  com- 
bination of  such  influences  is  that  of 
Sir  John  Beverley  Robinson. 

BOYHOOD    INFLUENCES 

Christopher  Robinson  was  born  in 
Virginia,  and  at  the  time  of  the  Revo- 
lutionary War  was  at  College  in  Wil- 
liamsburg. He  did  not  favour  that 
movement,  and  made  his  way  to  Bev- 
erley House,  on  the  Hudson,  the  home 
of  his  uncle.  Colonel  Beverley  Robin- 
son. Though  only  eighteen  years  of 
age,  he  received  a  commission  in 
Colonel  Simcoe's  Legion  and  served 
during  the  war. 

When  peace  was  concluded  he  went 
with  other  Loyalists  to  New  Bruns- 
wick. In  1788  he  removed  to  Lower 
Canada,  and  four  years  later  to  Kings- 


ton. In  Lower  Canada,  at  Berthier, 
was  born  the  son  known  to  fame  as 
Sir  John  Beverley  Robinson,  one  of 
the  most  conspicuous  figures  in  Cana- 
dian history. 

This  boy  moved  with  his  father, 
who  in  the  meantime  had  become  a 
Bencher  of  the  Law  Society  and  a 
Member  of  the  House  of  Assembly,  to 
York  (Toronto)  in  1798.  Three  weeks 
after  their  arrival  there  the  father  died, 
and  the  son  was  thus  early  vested  with 
responsibility.  He  was  sent  to  Kings- 
ton to  the  Grammar  School  kept  by 
Mr.  Strachan,  and  afterwards  went 
to  Cornwall  with  the  school.  Later 
on,  John  Strachan,  afterwards  Bishop 
of  Toronto,  became  almost  a  guardian 
as  well  as  friend  and  tutor  to  him, 
ready  always  to  assist  him  by  his 
advice  and  example,  and  also  with  his 
purse.* 

It  will  be  seen  that  these  boyhood 
influences  were  exceptional.  He  must 
have  been  aff^ected  by  the  knowledge 
that  his  father  had  served  His  Majesty 
in  a  lost  cause,  and  had  been  driven 
from  the  United  States  because  of  his 
loyalty  to  the  British  flag.  It  is  reas- 
onable to  assume  that  this  had  some- 
thing to  do  with  making  him  one  of 
the  most  persistent  advocates  of  the 
preservation  of  the  Royal  prerogatives 
and  of  British  connection  with  Upper 
Canada.  He  was  aff'ected,  too,  by  the 
man  John  Strachan,  staunch,  stern 
and  partisan  in  every  fibre  of  his  body; 
a  zealous  and  vigorous  upholder  of 
church  and  royalty.  The  boy's  opin- 
ions were  formed  by  the  master.  The 
boy  and  the  master  stood  together  in 
defence  of  the  Family  Compact,  in 
defence  of  autocratic  government,  in 
defence  of  a  religious  State  university, 
in  defence  of  the  clergy  reserves. 
Neither  ever  yielded  a  jot  in  the  opin- 

*Life  of  Sir  John  Beverley  Robinson, 
Bart.,  C.B.,  D.C.L.,  Chief  Justice  of  Upper 
Canada,  b}'  Major-General  C.  W.  Rpbinson, 
C.B.     Toronto:  Morang-  &  Co. 


SIR  JOHN  BEVERLEY'  ROBINSON 


233 


SIR  JOHN   BEVERLEY   ROBINSON 

Prom  a  sketch  by  Geonre  Richmond,  made  from  life  in  1855  in  London,  preparatory-  to  pain  tins  *■ 
portrait  in  oils.  The  latter  huns  in  the  Royal  Acadenjy  of  that  year.  This  sketJi  was  recently  brought  to 
Canada,  and  is  now  reproduced  for  the  first  time  by  jjermission  of  Dr.  James  Bain,  Librarian  of  the 
Toronto  Public  Library. 


ions  which  had  early  become  common, 
and  together  they  went  through  life 
resisting  to  the  last  every  inevitable, 
popular  reform,  and  dying  with  the 
respect  and  the  almost  love  of  the  very 
men  whom  they  fought  most  bitterly. 
John  Beverley  Robinson  had  re- 
turned to  York,  had  become  a  law- 
student  in  the  office  of  Hon.  D'Arcy 

3 


Boulton,  and  a  private  in  the  York 
Militia,  when  the  War  oi  1812 
occurred.  He  was  at  once  given  a 
commission,  was  present  at  the  cap- 
ture of  Detroit,  and  at  the  Battle  of 
Queenston  when  the  beloved  and 
heroic  Brock  and  his  aide  (Attorney- 
General)  Macdonell  gave  their  lives  in 
the  defence  of  their  country. 


234 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


THE   CORNWALL    r.RAMMAR    SCHOOL 

John  Strachan's  first  church  was  at  Cornwall  and,  as  his  clerical  duties  were  light,  he  commenced  taking 
pupils,  and  soon  built  up  a  school  which  afterwards  became  justly  celebrated.  It  was  here  John  Beverley 
Robinson  was  educated. — From  an  old  lithograph  published  in  1845  by  Hugh  Scobie,  Toronto. 


Then  occurred  one  of  the  most 
peculiar  incidents  in  his  career.  A  few 
weeks  after  the  battle,  though  only 
twenty-one  years  of  age,  and  though 
only  just  completing  his  five  years  as 
a  law-student,  he  was  made  Attorney- 
General  of  Upper  Canada  in  succession 
to  Mr.  Macdonell.  The  Hon.  D'Arcy 
Boulton  should  have  had  the  office, 
but  he  had  started  for  England,  had 
been  captured  by  the  French,  and  was 
then  languishing  in  a  French  prison. 
When  this  gentleman  returned  to 
Canada  in  1815,  young  Robinson  re- 
signed the  office,  and  it  was  given 
into  Mr.  Boulton's  hands.  Yet  his 
holding  of  that  position  for  two  years 
marked  him  out  as  a  coming  man,  one 
who  might  rise  as  high  as  his  abilities 
could  carry  him.  On  his  resignation, 
he  was  made  Solicitor-General,  and 
during  the  remainder  of  his  life  was  an 
official  personage.  There  is  probably 
no  other  example  in  Canadian  history 
of  a  young  man  attaining  to  official 
distinction  at  so  early  a  date,  and 
holding  it  throughout  so  long  and  so 
active  a  life. 

SELF-  CONFIDENCE 

Almost  immediately  after  this  he 
went  to  England  to  study  law,  bearing 


with  him  a  letter  of  recommendation 
from  Sir  Gordon  Drummond,  then 
Lieutenant-Governor  of  UpperCanada, 
to  Sir  George  Murray.  His  position 
as  Solicitor-General  and  his  introduc- 
tions enabled  the  young  man  to  see 
much  of  English  life  and  society,  and 
he  made  the  most  of  his  opportunities. 
His  dignified  confidence  in  his  own 
abilities  is  evidenced  by  the  fact  that 
in  1816,  at  the  request  of  Dr.  Strachan, 
then  a  member  of  the  Executive  of 
Upper  Canada,  he  presented  a  memo- 
randum to  Lord  Bathurst,  Secretary  of 
State  for  the  Colonies,  protesting 
against  the  removal  of  the  capital  from 
York  to  Kingston.  Soon  afterwards 
this  confidence  must  have  been 
strengthened  by  letters  from  Dr. 
Strachan  urging  him  to  try  his  for- 
tune at  the  British  Bar,  but  assuring 
him  that,  if  he  returned  to  Canada,  an 
attempt  would  be  made  to  place  Mr. 
Boulton  on  the  Bench  and  make  him 
(Robinson)  Attorney- General. 

According  to  his  London  diary,  he 
dined  at'  a  great  Covent  Garden  The- 
atrical Fund  Dinner,  at  which  the  Duke 
of  York  presided,  and  there  were  pres- 
ent the  Duke  of  Kent  and  the  Duke  of 
Sussex,  besides  many  other  notable 
people.      He  wrote  in  his  book: 


S/R  JOHN  BEVERLEY  ROBINSON 


235 


/  :  ./s  iiiucJi  pleased  7vith  the  personal 
appenrance  nf  the  three  dukes.  In  fact,  they 
were,  beyond  all  question,  the  three  men  of 
most  noble  appearance  at  the  table. 

The  Duke  of  Siis«>t'x  has  a  countenance 
and  manner  very  prepossessing^,  full  of  be- 
nignity and  cheerful  and  lively  good  humour. 
The  Duke  of  Kent  looks  and  speaks  like  a 
solilier;  the  Oake  of  \'ot-k  is  a  hue.  command- 
\n^  piTson,  and  has  more  rejjiilar  symmetry 
of  features  than  his  brothers,  but  no  particu- 
lar expression  that  pleases  or  strikes. 

The  Duke  of  York  made  a  short  speech  in 
a  very  hesitating  and  conluscd  manner    .    . 

This  confident  young  Canadian  thus 
wrote  of  two  future  sovereigns  and  of 
the  father  of  Her  late  Majesty  Queen 
Victoria.  Canadians  are  noted  for 
their  unobtrusive  self-confidence,  and 
perhaps  some  of  it  has  been  inherited 
from  this  famous  Chief  Justice,  who  at 
twenty-four  years  of  age  ventured  to 
analyse  freely  the  chief  royal  persons 
of  the  time. 

Mr.  Robinson,  after  his  marriage, 
returned  to  Canada,  and   in    182 1   be- 


came the  first  representative  of  the 
town  of  York  in  the  Assembly,  The 
next  year  he  was  appointed  by  the 
Government  to  proceed  to  England  as 
Commissioner  on  behalf  of  Upper 
Canada  in  the  dispute  between  that 
colony  and  Lower  Canada  over  a 
division  of  the  customs  duties  col- 
lected at  the  port  of  Quebec.  On  this 
occasion  he  completed  his  terms  at 
Lincoln's  Inn  and  was  called  to  the 
Bar.  He  was  also  consulted  by  the 
Colonial  Oflfice  on  several  matters, 
and  the  I'nder- Secretary  of  State  in- 
formed him  that  an  instruction  would 
be  sent  to  the  Colonial  Government  to 
make  him  a  grant  of  waste  lands  to 
the  extent  of  6,000  or  10,000  acres. 
Of  this  he  himself  wrote  in  his  diary: 

"On  reflection,  I  declined  it,  from  an  im- 
pression that,  being  a  member  of  the  Legis- 
lature, it  would  h<s  better  for  me  to  accept 
nothing  which,  from  the  jealousy  it  might 
create,  or  on  any  ground,   might    lessen  my 


"GOVERNMENT    UOISE,       PETERBOROlCill 

In  1825-6  the  Hon.  Peter  Robinson,  elder  brother  of  Sir  John  Beverley  Robinson,  brought  out  2,000 
Irish  setUers,  who  were  located  in  what  is  now  the  County  of  Peterborough.  On  the  site  of  the  iwesent  town 
of  Peterborough  Mr.  Robinson  erected  five  log  buildings,  the  largest  of  which  was  long  known  as  "  Govern- 
ment House,"  and  was  for  a  time  the  residence  of  Mr.  Robinson  and  of  Col.  McDonell.  See  Poole's  "Sketch 
of  the  Early  Settlement  of  the  Town  of  Peterborough."  1867,  p.  15,  etseq.  In  1 826  Sir  Peregrine  Maitland , 
the  Lieutenant-Governor  of  Upper  Canada.  \'isited  the  new  town  and  was  lodged  in  this  house.  With  him 
were  Col.  Talbot,  Hon.  (Sir)  John  Beverley  Robinson.  George  G.  Bethune  and  Hon.  Zaccheus  Bumham. 
This  visit  probably  gave  rise  to  the  name  "  Government  House." — From  a  pencil  sketch  in  the  possession  of 
James  F.  Smith,  Rsfj.,  K.C.,  Toronto. 


236 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


vveig-ht  in  the  Assembly,  and  disable  me  from 
serving:  the  Government  as  efficiently  as  I 
otherwise  might." 

This  shows  that  his  confidence  in 
himself  was  of  a  superior  sort.  It 
was  in  decided  contrast  to  the  self- 
conceit  so  often  met  with  in  am- 
bitious young  men.  Another  incident 
confirms  this.  Before  he  left  Eng- 
land, in  August,  1823,  he  was  in- 
formed that  he  might  have  the  post  of 
Chief  Judge  of  Mauritius  at  a  salary 
of  £3,500,  with  house  allowance.  He 
declined  this  also,  as  he  felt  confident 
that  he  had  before  him  a  field  of  suffi- 
cient usefulness  in  Canada. 

There  is  a  touch  of  humility  also  in 
his  refusal  of  a  D.C.L.  from  Oxford  in 
the  same  year  because  "  I  did  not  feel 
that  I  had  sufficient  pretensions  to  the 
distinction."  Later  in  life  he  did 
accept  the  honour. 

Writing  of  him,  with  special  refer- 
ence to  this  part  of  his  career,  Mr. 
Dent  gives  a  severer  view: 

"  Young  John  Beverley  Robinson  had  more 
than  a  moderate  degree  of  intellect,  and  his 
educational  training  was,  for  those  times, 
exceptionally  liberal.  He  early  came  to  be 
looked  upon  as  the  rising  hope  of  the  Tories, 
and  it  cannot  be  denied  that  he  realised  their 
expectations.  We  believe  him  to  have  been 
thoroughly  well-meaning  and  conscientious. 
Real  greatness  or  genuine  statesmanship, 
however,  cannot  be  claimed  for  him.  A 
statesman  would  have  had  a  clearer  insight 
into  the  requirements  of  his  country,  and 
would  have  endeavoured  to  promote  its  best 
interests.  He  would  not  have  been  so 
bUnded  by  party  prejudice  as  to  throw  the 
whole  weight  of  his  mfluence  into  the  scale 
against  those  clear-sighted  spirits  who  advo- 
cated responsible  government.  He  would 
have  known  that  the  fiat  had  gone  forth;  and 
that  any  attempts  to  prevent  the  inevitable 
consummation  would  be  as  ineffectual  as  were 
Mrs.  Partington's  exertions  to  stem  back  the 
resistless  tide  of  the  Atlantic  with  her  broom. 
.  .  .  .  A  great  man,  on  the  other  hand, 
would  not  have  lent  himself  to  a  series  of 
State  prosecutions,  which  form  an  ignomini- 
ous chapter  in  the  history  of  Upper  Canadian 
jurisprudence A  man  who  con- 
scientiously permits  himself  to  be  the  instru- 
ment of  tyranny  and  selfish  misgovernment 
may  be  scrupulously  honest  according  to  his 
lights;  but  his  lights  are  none  of  the  bright- 
est, and  his  admirers  must  not  complain  if 
history  refuses  to  accord  him  a  place  on  the 
same  pedestal  with  Robert  Baldwin."* 

*  Canadian  Portrait  Gallery,  Vol.  IV,  p.  115. 


The  writings  of  Mr.  Dent  and  other 
historians  give  one  the  impression 
that  the  Chief  Justice  was  arrogant 
and  self-opinionated.  The  view  of 
him  presented  by  this  newly  published 
"Life"  is  quite  the  reverse.  He 
opposed  the  granting  of  responsible 
government  apparently  because  he  felt 
that  the  country  was  not  ripe  for  it,  not 
because  he  did  not  believe  that  it 
would  eventually  be  the  best  thing  for 
the  colony.  Sir  Francis  Hincks,  on 
the  other  hand,  writes  of  his  "modesty 
of  mind,"  and  another  person  has 
described  him  as  possessed  of  "  a  blend 
of  ability  and  modesty." 

TENACITY    OF    PURPOSE 

Young  Robinson  had  early  been 
called  to  prominence,  and  every  act  of 
his  life  shows  that  he  was  tenacious  in 
his  willingness  to  be  a  leader  among  his 
fellow  Canadians.  He  refused  to  try 
his  fortune  at  the  English  Bar;  he  re- 
fused a  judgeship  in  Mauritius;  he 
refused  to  swerve  one  hair's-breadth 
from  the  course  on  which  he  had  so 
early  embarked. 

He  was  either  permanently  under  the 
influence  of  Dr.  Strachan,  or  was  pos- 
sessed of  the  same  tenacity  of  purpose 
in  regard  to  the  Clergy  Reserves.  In 
1825  he  again  went  to  England  to 
protest  against  the  sale  of  these 
Reserves  to  the  Canada  Company. 
He  did  so  well  on  this  mission  that  the 
proposed  sale  was  cancelled,  and  the 
Canada  Company  received  in  lieu  of 
them  a  quantity  of  land  in  the  Huron 
tract.  Six  years  later,  when  the 
House  of  Assembly  passed  a  Bill  to 
apply  these  Reserves  to  the  purposes 
of  education,  the  Legislative  Council, 
led  by  Mr.  Robinson,  rejected  it,  and 
passed  an  address  to  the  King,  asking 
him  to  preserve  these  assets  for  the 
support  of  "  a  Protestant  Clergy."  It 
was  only  in  1840  that  the  long  strug- 
gle was  ended  and  the  Reserves  secu- 
larised. 

Yet,  amid  all  his  zeal  for  the  Church 
of  England,  he  was  not  without  sym- 
pathy with  the  work  of  the  dissenting 
preachers.  A  letter  written  by  him  in 
1842,  and  reprinted  in  his   biography, 


SIR  JOHN  BEVERLEY  ROBINSON 


2.>7 


This  bouse  was  built  prtNimi^  t 
Robinson  brouKht  hi ~ 
by  him  and  by  Mr  v 
(Hon.  I  John  Bcverli  ■ 
Charles  Walker.     Only  the  two  bous,  Christupht 


BEVERLEY    MOISK,    TORONTO 

.    tlu'    W.ir  ..f    isn   1)V    Mr     DWnv    H. mil. .11. 


WJun  Jiilin  Beverley 

•  nlarsed 

Luldn. 

.j.-Gen.) 


.fccr.  survive. 


is  evidence  of  this.  He  admits  that,  if 
it  had  not  been  for  the  ministrations  of 
these  men,  there  were  districts  where 
during  that  thirty  years  there  would 
have  been  no  preaching  of  Christian 
doctrine.  Nevertheless,  he  believed 
that  the  time  would  come  when  all 
dissenters  would,  of  their  own  accord, 
"  return  under  her  shelter," 

In  1829  he  was  for  the  third  time 
offered  the  position  of  Chief  Justice  of 
Upper  Canada,  and  he  accepted  it. 
With  this  position  he  became  President 
of  the  Executive  and  Speaker  of  the  Leg- 
islative Council — three  offices  which 
went  together  in  those  days.  From 
that  date,  however,  he  concerned  him- 
self less  and  less  with  political  matters. 

In  the  Rebellion  period  he  was 
active,  because  it  was  a  time  when 
everybody  had  work  to  do.  He  had 
ceased  to  be  a  member  of  the  Execu- 


tive, but  remained  Speaker  of  the 
Council,  At  that  time  it  was  sug- 
gested that  he  be  knighted  for  his  ser- 
vices. He  declined,  and  records  his 
reason  for  so  doing.  It  had  not  been 
customary  to  knight  judges,  and  Mr, 
Sewell,  for  many  years  Chief  Justice 
in  Lower  Canada,  had  not  been  so 
honoured;  therefore,  "  it  seemed  to 
me  rather  absurd  to  allow  myself  to  be 
knighted  for  merely  doing  my  duty,  as 
everybody  around  me  had  done  in  a 
period  of  trouble  and  danger  to  all," 

On  the  27th  of  .August,  1838,  he 
wrote  to  the  Lieutenant-Governor,  Sir 
George  Arthur,  asking  for  a  respite 
from  work.      In  it  he  says: 

*'  I  beg:  lo  add  further  that  during  the  nine 
years  and  upward.s  that  I  have  been  Chief 
Justice  I  have  not,  for  any  private  purpose 
either  of  business  or  pleasure,  been  absent, 
that  I  can  remember,  a  single  day  from  my 
duty  in  the  Courts  or  in  the  Legislature." 


238 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


Writing'  a  little  later  to  his  sister, 
Mrs.  Boulton,  he  remarks: 

"  I  have  worried  myself  too  much  through 
life  from  anxiety  that  in  public  matters  ail 
things  should  go  as  they  ought.  However, 
I  would  not  exchange  the  satisfaction  I  feel 
in  having  done  what  I  believed  to  be  my  duty 
for  any  consideration." 

KNOWLEDGE 

The  fourth  influence  in  determining- 
the  usefulness  of  a  man  is  his  power 
over  knowledge.  Such  power  was 
amply  shown  by  Mr.  Robinson  before 
1840,  when  he  was  a  political  jurist, 
and  also  after  that  date,  when  his 
duties  were  entirely  judicial.  His  bril- 
liancy as  a  student,  his  wonderful,  if 
useless,  paper  on  the  merits  of  the 
Fur  Company  controversy,  his  pam- 
phlets proposing  a  general  federation  of 
the  four  provinces,  his  drafting  of  bills 
and  judgments,  all  indicated  an  excep- 
tional mind.  His  son,  in  this  biog- 
raphy, speaking  of  his  later  life,  says: 
"My  recollection  of  him  is  that  hour 
after  hour,  and  for  days  together,  he 
was  at  his  library  desk  when  not  at 
Court^or  on  circuit."     A  writer  in   the 


Toronto  Courier  of  1835  speaks  of 
"his  laborious  research,  his  swiftness 
of  despatch." 

The  Law  Journal  of  Upper  Canada, 
for  March,  1863,  contains  the  follow- 
ing paragraph: 

"  In  full  Court  Sir  John  Robinson  was 
always  the  pride  and  favourite  of  the  Bar. 
The  reputation  he  enjoyed,  and  the  weight  of 
his  opinion,  greatly  increased  the  business  of 
the  Court  in  which  he  presided.  He  was 
always  distinguished  for  his  readiness  and 
acuteness,  and  he  had  seldom  any  difficulty 
in  grasping  the  most  intricate  cases.  In  his 
hands  the  business  of  the  Court  was  never  in 

arrear Few    opinions   will    ever 

command  more  respect  or  carry  more  weight 
than  those  delivered  by  Sir  John  Robinson. 
They  are  remarkable  for  their  lucid  argu- 
ment, deep  learning,  strict  impartiality,  and 
pure  justice;  they  are  untainted  by  lanciful 
theories,  prejudice,  or  political  bias;  and  they 
bear  evidence  of  that  careful  research,  that 
deep  thought,  that  unwearied  application  and 
untiring  patience  which  he  brought  to  bear  on 
every  subject  that  came  umler  his  considera- 
tion. In  whatever  branch  oi  jurisprudence 
we  examine  his  judgments,  we  find  evidence 
of  intense  study.  Equity  or  common  law, 
civil  or  criminal  law,  pleading,  practice  and 
evidence— all  exhibit  the  same  copiousness  of 
research,  and  the  profound  comprehensive- 
ness of  his  legal  attainments." 


MEB-BE 

BY    WILLIAM    HENRY    DRUMMOND,    M.D, 

A    QUIET  boy  was  Joe  Bedotte, 

An*  no  sign  anyw'ere 
Of  anyt'ing  at  all  he  got 

Was  up  to  ordinaire. 
An'  w'en  de  teacher  tell  heem  go 

An'  tak'  a  holiday 
For  wake  heem  up,  becos  he's  slow. 
Poor  Joe  would  only  say — 

"Wall!  meb-be." 

Don't  bodder  no  wan  on  de  school 

Unless  dey  bodder  heem, 
But  all  de  scholar  t'ink  he's  fool. 

Or  walkin'  on  a  dream; 
So  w'en  dey're  closin'  on  de  spring, 

Of  course  dey're  moche  surprise 
Dat  Joe  is  takin'  ev'ryt'ing 

Of  w'at  you  call  de  prize. 


MEB-BE  239 


An'  den  de  teacher  say:  "Jo-seph, 

I  know  you're  workin'  hard, 
Becos  w'en  I  am  pass  mese'f 

I  see  you  on  de  yard 
A  spHttin*  wood — now  you  mus'  stay 

An'  study  half  de  night?" 
An'  Joe  he  spik  de  sam'  ole  way 

So  quiet  an*  polite — 

««  Wall!  meb-be." 

Hees  fader  an'  hees  moder  die, 

An'  lef  heem  dere  alone 
Wit'  chil'ren  small  enough  to  cry, 

An'  farm  all  rock  an'  stone. 
But  Joe  is  fader,  moder  too — 

An'  work  bote  day  an'  night 
An'  clear  de  place,  dat's  w'at  he  do, 

An'  bring  dem  up  all  right. 

De  Cur^  say:  '•  Jo-seph,  you  know 

Le  bon  Dieu's  very  good; 
He  feed  de  small  bird  on  de  snow, 

De  caribou  on  de  wood; 
But  you  deserve  some  credit  too, 

I  spik  of  dis  before — " 
So  Joe  he  dunno  w'at  to  do 

An'  only  say  wance  more — 

"  Wall!  meb-be." 

An'  Joe  he  leev'  for  many  year. 

An'  helpin'  ev'ry  wan 
Upon  de  parish,  far  an'  near. 

Till  all  hees  money's  gone. 
An'  den  de  Cur^  come  again 

Wit'  tear  drop  on  hees  eye; 
He  know  for  sure  poor  Joe  hees  frien' 

Is  well  prepare  to  die. 

"  Wall,  Joe!  de  work  you  done  will  tell 

W'en  you  get  up  above; 
De  good  God  he  will  treat  you  well. 

An'  geev'  you  all  hees  love. 
De  poor  an'  sick  down  here  below 

I'm  sure  dey'll  not  forget — " 
An'  w'at  you  t'ink  he  say,  poor  Joe, 

Drawin'  hees  only  breat'? 

"Wall!  meb-be." 


QUEEN    ALEXANDRA 

By  B.  J.   THOMPSON 


UEEN    ALEXANDRA  was 

sixty  years  old  the  first  day 
of  December,  and  marvel- 
lously youthful  in  appear- 
ance is  she  even  yet.  The 
anniversary  was  joyously  celebrated 
by  a  family  gathering  at  Sandringham 
palace,  and  many  messages  of  con- 
gratulation and  many  presents  were 
received.  The  German  Emperor,  the 
Czar  and  Czarina,  the  King  of  Por- 
tugal, the  King  of  Italy  and  the  Danish 
Royal  Family  were  among  those  who 
made  gifts  to  the  Queen.  Not  con- 
tent, however,  to  receive  all  and  give 
nothing,  the  Queen  in  the  afternoon 
gave  a  feast  to  the  school  children  of 
the  parishes  of  Sandringham,  Wolf- 
erton,  Newton  and  Dersingham,  and 
in  the  evening  she  and  the  King  gave 
a  dinner  party. 

In  honour  of  the  day  all  public 
buildings,  as  well  as  the  West  End 
clubs,  were  draped  with  flags.  Salutes 
were  fired  by  the  Royal  Artillery  in  St. 
James'  Park  and  at  the  Tower,  the 
ships  at  Portsmouth  were  dressed,  the 
royal  standard  flew  from  all  the  stations 
and  the  town  hall,  and  royal  salutes 
were  fired  at  Malta,  Gibraltar  and 
other  places  throughout  the  Empire. 
A  royal  salute  of  twenty-one  guns  was 
also  fired  in  Windsor  Great  Park,  the 
bells  of  St.  George's  Chapel  and  those 
of  the  parish  church  at  Windsor  were 
rung,  and  a  spirit  of  festivity  seemed 
to  pervade  the  very  atmosphere. 

Through  all  this  Queen  Alexandra 
was  her  own  unspoiled,  lovable,  gra- 
cious self.  Born  in  the  Gule  Palais,  a 
modest,  old-fashioned  house  in  the 
Amaleigade,  a  pleasant  street  of  Cop- 
enhagen, the  first  day  of  December, 
1844,  the  little  Princess  Alexandra 
began  life  in  a  modest  way.  The 
second  child  but  first  daughter  of  the 
poor  but  handsome  young  Dane, 
Prince  Christian  of  Gliicksburg,  and 
his  cousin-wife.  Princess  Louise,  the 
blue-eyed  babe  was  destined  to  occupy 


the  throne  of  the  greatest  power  in  the 
world.  Of  the  six  children  born  to 
her  royal  parents,  four  succeeded  to 
thrones,  and  the  old  Gule  Palais  is  now 
one  of  the  most  interesting  of  places 
for  sight-seers. 

"  Little  Alix,"  as  she  was  called  in 
the  home,  was  the  beauty  of  the 
family.  She  was  christened  in  the 
splendid  silver-gilt  font  of  the  Danish 
house  with  the  burdensome  names 
Alexandra  Caroline  Marie  Charlotte 
Louise  Julie  ;  but,  thanks  to  the  sen- 
sible views  held  by  her  soldier-father, 
later  to  become  King  Christian  IX  of 
Denmark,  the  little  princess  was  al- 
ways an  unaffected,  modest  child, 
while  the  great  influence  of  her  clever 
mother  moulded  the  child's  mind  into 
even  fairer  shape.  The  death  of  the 
Princess  Louise,  which  occurred  in 
1898,  has  been  the  Queen's  greatest 
grief  of  late  years. 

Until  she  was  sixteen  years  old  the 
princess  was  a  child,  with  a  child's  life. 
At  that  time,  however,  she  was  con- 
firmed, her  dresses  were  lengthened, 
her  hair  was  turned  up,  and  she  be- 
came suddenly  a  woman. 

The  first  meeting  of  the  princess 
with  the  Prince  of  Wales  occurred  on 
September  24th,  1861,  in  the  cathedral 
at  Speier.  A  mutual  liking  sprang  up, 
the  prince,  who  had  seen  a  miniature 
of  the  lovely  princess  before,  falling  in 
love  at  first  sight.  It  was  not  until 
the  9th  of  September,  1862,  however, 
that  the  formal  betrothal  took  place, 
the  Prince  Consort  having  gone  to  his 
last  rest  the  14th  of  December,  1861. 
The  wedding  took  place  the  10th  of 
March,  1863,  in  St.  George's  Chapel, 
Windsor.  It  was  the  first  royal  wed- 
ding celebrated  there  since  that  of 
Henry  I,  in  1122,  and  was  con- 
ducted with  magnificent  pageantry. 

'*  The  wedding  was  the  most  mov- 
ing sight  I  ever  saw,"  Bishop  Wilber- 
force  wrote.  "The  Queen  above, 
looking  down,  added  such    a  wonder- 


QUEEN     ALEXANDRA 

WHO  CELEBRATED  HER  SIXTIETH   BIRTHDAY  OX  THE   1st  OF  DECEMBER 


242 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


ful  chord  of  deep  feeling  to  all  the 
lighter  notes  of  joyfulness  and  show. 
The  Princess  of  Wa'es,  calm,  feeling, 
self-possessed.  The  Prince,  with  more 
depth  of  manner  than  ever  before." 

Dr.  Norman  McLeod,  another  prom- 
inent divine,  said  of  the  marriage  ser- 
vice: "Two  things  struck  me  much. 
One  was,  the  whole  of  the  royal  prin- 
cesses weeping,  though  concealing 
their  tears  with  their  bouquets,  as  they 
saw  their  brother,  who  was  to  them 
but  their  'Bertie'  and  their  dead 
father's  son,  standing  alone  waiting 
for  his  bride.  The  other  was  the 
Queen's  expression  as  she  raised  her 
eyes  to  heaven  while  her  husband's 
chorale  was  sung.  She  seemed  to  be 
with  him  alone  before  the  Throne  of 
God." 

With  such  surroundings  and  envi- 
ronments as  these  the  Princess  Alex- 
andra could  not  have  been  any  less  a 
woman,  any  less  a  daughter,  wife  and 
mother  than  the  years  have  shown 
her  to  be.  Six  children  were  born  to 
the  royal  pair — three  daughters  and 
three  sons — the  elder  son,  the  Duke 
of  Clarence,  dying  at  Sandringham  in 
January,  1892,  during  the  epidemic  of 
influenza.  This  was  a  deep  sorrow 
and  a  lasting  one  to  the  now  King  and 


Queen  of  P'ngland,  and  was  a  great 
blow  to  the  Princess  Victoria  Mary  of 
Teck,  to  whom  the  Duke  of  Clarence 
was  to  have  been  married  one  month 
later.  The  little  Prince  John,  born 
the  6th  of  April,  1871,  died  the  day 
after  his  birth. 

Since  her  husband's  accession  to  the 
throne  Queen  Alexandra  has  been  con- 
tinually before  the  public,  and  her 
works  of  charity  and  philanthropy,  as 
her  many  official  and  social  duties, 
have  been  discharged  with  love  and 
understanding.  Well  may  the  nation 
sing,  as  did  ihe  Laureate,  Tennyson, 
on  her  arrival,  at  her  marriage,  to  the 
country  of  her  adoption: 

"  Sea-kiiij^s  dauj^hter  from  over  the  sea, 

Alexandra! 
Weleome  her,  thunders  of  fort  and  fleet! 
Welcome  her,  thunderinj^  cheer  of  the  street, 
Welcome  her  all  things  youthful  and  sweet; 
Scatter  the  blossoms  under  her  feet! 
Break,  happy  land,  into  earlier  flowers, 
Make  music,  O  birds,  in  the  new-budded 

bovvers; 
Blazon  your  mottoes  of  blessing'  and  prayer: 
Welcome  her,  welcome  her,  all  that  is  ours! 
O,  joy  to  the  people,  and  joy  to  the  throne. 
Come  to  us,  love  us,  and  make  us  your  own: 
For  Saxon,  or  Dane,  or  N'orman,  we. 
Teuton,  or  Celt,  or  whatever  we  be. 
We  are  each  all  Dane  in  our  welcome  of 

Thee, 

Alexandra!" 


DOG  EAT  DOG 

By  CY  WARM  AN,  Author  of  "  The  Story  of  The  Railroad'' 


The  eagle  builds  where'er  he  wills, 
And  laughs  at  those  who  grieve; 

The  piping  jay  builds  where  he  may. 
And  asks  the  eagle's  leave. 

The  big  fish  eats  the  little  fish 
And  rules  the  running  stream; 

The  bull  moose  beats  the  lesser  bulls, 
And  roams  the  range  supreme. 

INCE  the  Hudson's  Bay 
Company  gave  up  its  em- 
pire to  the  Dominion  Gov- 
ernment and  went  out  of 
the  monopoly  business, 
those  who  seem  to  count  themselves 
commissioned    to    curse    all    corpora- 


tions have  been  swearing  their  afflic- 
tions on  to  the  Canadian  Pacific  Rail- 
way Company.  Whatever  of  calamity 
that  has  come  to  the  country,  the 
drought  of  twenty  years  ago,  the  soar 
and  slump  of  Winnipeg  in  1882,  forest 
fires  that  are  and  famine  to  come,  can 
be  laid  at  the  door  of  this  gigantic  cor- 
poration, if  only  one  has  the  imagina- 
tion; without  it  all  men  are  colourless 
and  of  little  consequence. 

The  president  of  the  above  men- 
tioned railway  is  represented  at  Win- 
nipeg by  a  stout-necked  "Moose," 
who    is  of   a   surety    monarch    of  the 


DOG  EAT  DOG 


243 


Manitoba  plains.  A  strange  feature  of 
his  reign  is  the  fact  that  many  of  the 
plains  people  take  a  sort  of  local  pride 
in  his  prowess  and  in  his  pluck. 

And  he,  too,  it  seems  to  me,  glories 
in  his  great  strength  with  a  modest 
and  becoming  glory.  When  he  horns 
in  under  his  big  game  and  tosses  it 
over  the  telegraph  wires  and  out  of  the 
right-of-way,  he  swings  back  to  the 
range  with  the  air  and  ease  of  a  reign- 
ing monarch.  With  the  cotton-tails, 
who  are  homesteading  on  his  pre- 
serves, he  is  extremely  friendly, 
guarding  them  jealously. 

It  came  to  pass  that  early  in  the 
pre.sent  prosperous  year  of  his  reign 
divers  cotton-tails,  who  burrow  in 
bunches  and  build  Boards  of  Trade, 
came  to  complain  that  certain  of  their 
big  brothers,  who  hunt  in  packs,  and 
whom  they  call  "timber  wolves,"  were 
after  their  brushes.  Under  the  com- 
bined pressure  of  these  the  cotton-tails 
complained  the  retail  price  of  pine  had 
gone  above  the  tops  of  the  tallest  trees. 
It  was,  according  to  the  committee, 
keeping  other  desirable  rabbits  from 
coming  up  over  the  border  and  so 
delaying  the  development  of  the  North- 
west. Also,  it  caused  others,  less 
desirable,  of  the  aforesaid  wolf  family 
to  come  in  from  Washington  with 
their  wares  over  a  seven  dollar  fence 
which  had  been  built  for  the  protection 
of  the  northern  timber  wolf. 

Whereupon  the  bull  moose  snorted 
and  called  a  council  of  the  timber  folk. 

"Squaty-vois,"  said  the  Monarch  in 
Vanko-French-Canadian,  when  the 
timber  folk  had  assembled. 

When  the  Monarch  turned  to  face 
the  bush  band  he  almost  staggered. 
Instead  of  a  look  of  fear  he  saw  in 
their  glances  a  gleam  of  defiance. 

The  spokesman  spake  thus: 

"Thou  has  skinned  these  rabbits 
mercilessly  for  several  snows,  and  now 
when  we,  who  are  good  hunters  but 
late  in  the  field,  reach  for  their  Puffs, 
presume  to  say,  *  Thou  shalt  not! 
Bah!     Cut  it  out.'" 

"Bully-bien,"  roared  the  bull  moose, 


clinging  to  that  Bohemian  brand  of 
language  he  always  uses  on  a  mixed 
audience;  "  Bien — bi-en." 

Then  he  swung  his  great  head,  look- 
ing them  over  and  under  and  through 
and  through.  "Dead  game,"  said  he, 
half  aloud,  the  which  is,  after  all, 
ambiguous. 

Then  he  swung  his  back  on  them, 
which  was  taken  by  the  visitors  as 
equivalent  to  Adious,  Bojure,  Auf- 
veidersein,  t'U  wid  yez,  or  good- bye 
Dolly,  according  to  one's   nationality. 

Whereupon  the  timber  folk  gave  the 
Monarch  the  merry  ha-ha!  and  trooped 
away. 

"  Bully-bien,"  said  the  Monarch,  as 
they  split  and  scattered  for  their 
favourite  hunting  grounds. 


That  night  the  great  moose  slept 
the  sleep  of  the  virtuous.  So  did  the 
timber  folk,  for  they  were  not  really 
and  truly  wolves,  but  were  called 
wolves  by  the  bunnies  (who  are  weak 
and  unorganised)  because  they  dwell 
in  the  bush  and  hunt  in  packs. 

That  night,  also,  the  boss  moose 
caused  to  be  posted  on  the  door  posts 
of  all  lodges  along  his  trail,  at  the 
various  stops  where  he  puts  off  tour- 
ists and  tinned  goods,  the  right  and 
lawful  price  of  pine,  spruce  and  cedar 
poles,  shingles  and  other  finished  and 
unfinished  products  of  the  forest. 

A  sort  of  P.S.  at  the  bottom  said 
to  the  rabbits,  "  If  any  timber  wolf 
shall  charge  more  than  this — write  to 
your  Uncle  Dudly,  and  he  will  sup- 
ply you." 

And  thus  did  the  wily  old  moose 
hobble  the  helpless  bunnies  and  fet- 
ter them  with  friendship  that  he  hopes 
may  abide. 

"  Well,  what  do  you  think?"  asked 
the  eagle  on  the  rock  of  the  owl  in  the 
bush. 

"  I  don't  think,"  answered  the  owl, 
turning  his  short  neck  and  rolling  his 
round  eye  toward  the  forest.  "The 
first  battle  does  not  always  end  a  war. 
Our  bush  friends  hunt  in  packs." 


A    NEW    SERIAL 


THE    BUILDERS 


By  ERIC  BOHS\  Atithor  of  ''How  Harhnan    Won;'  etc. 


Ye  Builders,  true  on  land  and  lake 
To  name  and  nation's  g'lory, 

Thoug-h  time  has  left  you  in  its  wake, 
Your  stress  must  tell  its  story. 


CHAPTER  I 

AROLD  MANNING:  Wilt 
thou  have  this  woman  to  be 
thy  wedded  wife,  to  live  to- 
g'ether  after  God's  ordin- 
ance in  the  holy  state  of 
matrimony?  Wilt  thou  love  her,  hon- 
our and  keep  her  in  sickness  and  in 
health;  and,  forsaking  all  others,  keep 
thee  only  unto  her  as  long"  as  ye  both 
shall  live?"  rang  out  in  clear,  solemn 
tones  throughout  the  little  Chapel  of  the 
Abbey  on  that  still  November  morning. 
"  I  will,"  came  the  answer,  in  a 
voice  that  was  strong  and  true. 

The  few  who  were  present  heard  the 
words  with  a  thrill,  for  they  knew  in 
this  case  how  much  they  meant. 

"  Helen  Brandon:  Wilt  thou  have 
this  man  to  thy  wedded  husband,  to 
live  together  after  God's  ordinance,  in 
the  holy  state  of  matrimony?  Wilt 
thou  obey  him  and  serve  him,  love, 
honour  and  keep  him  in  sickness  and 
in  health;  and,  forsaking  all  others, 
keep  thee  only  unto  him  so  long  as  ye 
both  shall  live?" 

"I  will,"  was  again  the  response, 
this  time  issuing  sweetly  but  firmly 
from  lips  that  would  not  tremble, 
although  the  tone  brought  tears  to 
more  than  one  pair  of  eyes  that  were 
fixed  upon  her. 

The  ceremony  and  congratulations 
were  soon  over.  Then  the  bride  on 
the  arm  of  her  husband  led  the  way 
down  the  aisle,  while  the  tones  of  the 
Wedding  March  filled  grand  old  West- 
minster to  its  furthest  limits. 

November  days  in  London  have  not 
changed  much  in  a  century  of  years, 
though  perhaps  the  opacity  of  the  air 
was  a  little  more  penetrating  in   1813 


than  it  is  to-day;  for  when  the  bridal 
party  passed  through  the  Abbey  arch- 
way to  the  street,  the  mist  of  the  early 
morning  had  developed  into  a  dense 
fog,  which  was  rapidly  closing  over 
the  city.  Hence  the  coachmen  had  to 
pilot  the  way  to  almost  invisible  car- 
riages, and  then  lead  their  horses  in  a 
tramp  of  several  miles  over  the  return 
journey,  through  almost  deserted 
streets. 

"  My  darling,  mine  at  last!"  whis- 
pered the  young  man  as  he  clasped  his 
bride  in  his  arms,  under  cover  of  the 
closed  carriage  and  dense  atmosphere. 

"Yes,  Harold,  yours  forever,"  was 
the  response;  and  with  their  first  long 
kiss  they  sealed  their  marriage  vows. 

"  Too  bad  to  need  such  a  wedding- 
day  as  this,"  he  exclaimed,  looking 
fondly  into  her  eyes,  and  then  through 
the  carriage  window  into  the  opaque 
street. 

•*  And  yet  how  fortunate  that  it  is 
so,"  she  answered  with  a  little  ripple 
of  laughter. 

"  My  sweet  philosopher!  Once  in 
the  Abbey,  I  never  thought  of  it 
again." 

"  But  I  did.  I  looked  all  around 
and  there  was  not  as'ngle  visitor,  only 
our  own  party,  the  clergyman,  the 
organist,  and  the  little  old-fashioned 
clerk." 

"Ton  my  word,  Helen,  I  don't  be- 
lieve I  saw  anyone  but  you  from  the 
moment  we  went  in  until  we  came  out 
again." 

"You  dear  boy.  I  suppose  it  was 
love  that  kept  my  eyes  open  to  other 
things.  Do  you  know,  I  was  actually 
glad  to  see  the  mist  to-day,  much  as  I 
dislike  it." 

"  Yes,  and  after  all  it  has   been  our 


THE  BUILDERS 


245 


friend.  Everything  seems  to  have 
favoured  us.  Even  the  fog  helped  us 
to  keep  our  secret." 

"  Where  did  you  say  you  had  the 
banns  published,  Harold?"  she  asked, 
leaning  her  head  against  his  shoulder. 

"At  a  quiet  little  village  ten  miles 
out  of  London,  a  place  I  never  heard 
of  before." 

"  All  the  better  for  us.  But  now 
that  we  are  actually  married,  you 
won't  need  to  keep  the  secret  much 
longer,  will  you  dearest  ?"  she  asked, 
casting  a  glance  from  her  big  brown 
eyes  up  to  his  face. 

"  Not  a  moment  longer  than  I  can 
help,  darling.  Vou  know  Sir  George 
Head  is  my  new  commanding  officer; 
and  I  want  him  to  hear  the  news  first 
from  me." 

"And  what  will  he  say  ?" 

"  As  I  told  you  before,  Helen,  he 
won't  like  it.  There  may  be  no  written 
law,  but  there's  an  unwritten  one  in 
the  army,  that  no  officer  may  marry 
without  his  superior  officer's  consent — 
particularly  if  he  has  been  off  duty  as 
long  as  I  have.  Still,  that  terrible 
wound  I  got  at  Badajos  is  in  my 
favour;  and  he  can't  turn  me  off,  what- 
ever else  he  does." 

"  But  he  might  make  it  very  uncom- 
fortable for  you,  Harold." 

"  Yes,  and  he  can  refuse  to  sanction 
your  going  with  me  to  Canada." 

"  That's  the  worst  part  of  it,  dear- 
est!  How  can  a  wife  love,  honour 
and  serve  her  husband  and  keep  him 
in  sickness  and  in  health,  if  she  can't 
live  with  him  ?"  she  exclaimed,  while 
blushes  danced  playfully  over  the  dark 
beauty  of  her  face. 

"  You  are  the  dearest  girl  that  ever 
lived,"  he  cried,  throwing  his  arms 
around  her  and  pressing  her  again  to 
his  heart.  "  I  shall  do  my  very  best 
with  the  Colonel,  and  will  see  him  as 
soon  as  I  can.  Perhaps  I  should  have 
spoken  to  him  first;  but  if  \  had,  he 
would  have  forbidden  our  wedding, 
and  to  have  married  after  that  would 
have  been  direct  insubordination." 

"  Won't  he  think  so  as  it  is  ?" 

"  Perhaps.  Still,  I  am  willing  to 
run  the  risk;  and  I  wanted  to  have  you 


as  my  wife,  whether  I  could  take  you 
or  not.  I'm  afraid  I'm  a  selfish  fellow, 
Helen,  and  not  by  any  means  worthy 
of  you." 

"  Why,  Harold!  What  a  way  of 
speaking — just  after  our  marriage, 
too!" 

"  Forgive  me,  dearest!  I  didn't 
mean  anything,  but  that  I  love  you  so 
much  that  I  almost  tremble  at  the 
responsibility  we  have  undertaken." 

"Is  that  a  brave  front  for  a  soldier?" 
exclaimed  Helen  with  flashing  eye. 

"  I  would  dare  anything  for  myself, 
Helen;  but  it  is  of  you  I  was  thinking. 
To  leave  you  behind  with  no  one  but 
your  uncle  and  aunt  to  care  for  you, 
when  we  sail,  and  perhaps  not  come 
back  for  years,  seems  more  than  I  can 
bear." 

"  If  we  have  to  we  must,  though," 
she  exclaimed,  cuddling  closer.  "Then 
I  will  stay  home  and  wait  and  watch 
and  pray  for  the  dearest  one  in  all  the 
world  to  me,  and  think  of  Penetang — 
isn't  that  the  name  of  the  place? — and 
long  for  the  day  that  I  can  be  with  my 
husband  again." 

"  What  a  noble  girl  you  are!" 

"  I  am  a  soldier's  daughter,"  and 
she  looked  up  proudly,  although  a  tear 
was  in  her  eye. 

"  Yes,  and  your  brave  father  was 
shot  in  the  heart  while  leading  his  men 
to  victory." 

"And  come  what  will,  his  daughter 
shall  never  disgrace  his  name.  Vic- 
tory will  yet  be  ours,"  she  said,  cour- 
ageously. 

"Heaven  grant  it, "was  his  response. 

For  some  moments  both  had  solemn 
faces,  while  with  gentle  pressure  they 
held  each  other's  hands. 

"  I  am  not  without  hope,"  Harold 
continued  at  last.  "Sir  George  may 
be  angry  at  first,  and  I  can't  blame  him 
for  that.  Will  raise  a  row,  of  course 
— perhaps  send  me  to  Hades — but  he 
may  give  in  before  the  ship  sails.  It 
will  be  jolly  happy  for  us  if  he  does." 

While  he  was  speaking  a  critical 
look  came  into  Helen's  face. 

"  Do  you  know,"  she  exclaimed 
with  sudden  earnestness,  "  I  really  be- 
lieve I  can  help  you." 


246 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


"My  darling!  How  in  the  world 
can  you  ?  You  do  not  even  know  Sir 
George  or  one  of  the  officers." 

"  That  may  be,"  she  replied,  holding 
his  hand  in  both  of  hers.  "  But  see, 
the  carriage  is  stopping.  I  cannot 
tell  you  now.  Just  leave  it  to  me." 
And  at  once  the  expression  upon  her 
face  inspired  him  with  renewed  con- 
fidence. 

Just  then  they  arrived  at  a  little  villa 

on  G e  street,  and  the  whole  party 

alighted. 

CHAPTER    II 

TWO  days  later  Lieutenant  Manning 
was  at  the  officers'  mess  at  the 
quarters  of  the  looth  regiment.  The  fact 
that  he  had  only  recently  been  trans- 
ferred, and  that  he  was  still  on  the 
convalescent  list,  made  his  temporary 
absence  unnoticed.  His  eye  ran 
quickly  over  the  faces  of  the  men, 
who  greeted  him  pleasantly  by  nod  or 
word,  for  he  was  already  a  favourite, 
but  he  saw  nothing  unusual.  The 
secret  evidently  was  not  out.  They 
had  not  heard;  of  this  he  was  glad,  for 
the  Colonel  could  now  receive  the  news 
directly  from  himself  and  not  from 
officers'  gossip. 

They  were  talking  of  the  prospective 
trip,  and,  in  the  absence  of  Sir  George, 
with  more  freedom  than  usual. 

"Will  you  be  ready,  Manning?" 
Lieutenant  Smith  asked  across  the 
table.  "The  Colonel  says  we  start 
in  twelve  days." 

"  So  soon  as  that!"  the  young  man 
exclaimed  with  a  start.  A  lump  had 
suddenly  jumped  into  his  throat.  Pull- 
ing himself  together  before  anyone 
could  observe,  he  went  on:  "Yes; 
but  I  thought  we  were  to  sail  by  the 
Challenger,  which  does  not  leave  port 
until  a  week  later." 

"That  was  the  first  order,"  said 
Captain  Cummings  from  the  other  end 
of  the  room;  "but  it  had  to  be  changed 
yesterday,  for  the  Challenger  on  exam- 
ination was  found  unseaworthy." 

"  And  by  what  ship  do  we  sail  now?" 

"  By   the   North  King,    one    of   the 


best  men-of-war  in  the  navy.  It  is 
large,  too,  and  leaves  port  a  week 
earlier." 

How  Lieutenant  Manning  got 
through  mess  and  the  next  two  hours' 
official  duties,  before  he  could  see  the 
Colonel,  he  did  not  know.  Never  did 
minutes  appear  so  much  like  hours 
before.  Even  when  he  lay  in  the 
trenches  at  Badajos,  with  a  slice  out  ot 
his  leg  from  a  ball,  and  could  hear  his 
comrades  cheer  amid  the  din  of  can- 
nonading, time  seemed  to  pass  away 
more  quickly. 

At  last  Sir  George,  accompanied  by 
an  orderly,  crossed  the  barrack  yard 
and  entered  his  office.  But  there  were 
other  visitors  ahead  of  Manning,  and 
the  day  was  well  advanced  before  his 
opportunity  came.  Finally  the  last 
one  departed,  a  soldier  opened  the 
door,  and  Harold  entered. 

"  Lieutenant  Manning,  glad  to  see 
you,"  said  Sir  George,  in  answer  to 
Harold's  salute.  "  I  suppose  you  are 
as  strong  as  ever  and  ready  for 
another  march?" 

There  was  a  tone  of  inquiry  in  his 
voice;  for  it  was  unusual  for  the 
younger  officers  to  visit  him  except 
on  special  business. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  replied  Harold,  colour- 
ing. "A  soldier  should  always  be 
ready  for  orders." 

"There's  not  much  time  to  lose," 
was  the  next  comment.  Our  men  of 
the  1 00th  go  aboard  the  North  King 
not  many  days  hence,  and  sail  from 
the  London  docks  on  the  24th.  What's 
the  matter,  lad?  Is  there  anything  I 
can  do  for  you  ?" 

"  I  came  to  make  a  confession,  sir," 
stammered  the  Lieutenant,  his  face 
remaining  red  in  spite  of  himself. 

"What?  Been  gambling?  You 
young  fellows  are  always  at  it." 

"No,  sir!  It  is  not  that,"  replied 
the  young  man,  indignantly,  while  at 
the  same  time  the  utterance  of  the 
calumny  seemed  to  relieve  the  mental 
pressure.  "The  fact  is,  Colonel,  I've 
been  getting  married." 

"  Getting  married,  you  idiot!"  and 
Sir  George  fairly  jumped  off  his  seat  in 
his    amazement.      "Are    you    mad?" 


THE  BUILDERS 


247 


and  his  eyes  glared  fiercely  at  Harold. 
"Do  you  know  what  that  means? 
Rank  insubordination — complete  sep- 
aration for  years  from  the  silly  woman 
who  has  taken  you  for  a  husband — 
zounds,  man,  I  thought  you  had  more 
sense!" 

By  this  time  Harold's  excitement 
had  subsided.  He  was  getting  cool 
again. 

"  I  am  prepared  to  take  the  conse- 
quences, sir,  whatever  they  may  be.  I 
only  ask  for  the  liberty  of  explanation." 

"  Explanation,  indeed!  That  should 
have  come  before,  not  after,"  and  with 
another  angry  growl,  Sir  George  set- 
tled himself  in  his  chair  again. 

"My  wife,"  said  Harold — the 
Colonel  winced — "is  willing  to  endure 
any  length  of  separation  that  is  neces- 
sary. But  1  want  to  say  about  her  that 
her  father  and  mother  are  dead.  She 
is  provided  for,  however,  and  lives 
with  her  uncle  and  aunt.  What's 
more,  she's  a  beautiful  woman,  and  is 
just  as  brave  as  she  is  good." 

"That's  all  very  well,  sir,  but  why 
did  you  bluster  along  at  this  infernal 
speed  ?" 

"  For  two  reasons,  sir."  Harold 
had  prepared  himself  for  the  fight. 
"  First,  because  I  understood  my  stay 
in  Canada  would  be  a  long  one;  and, 
second,  because  you  said  I  might  have 
the  command  of  a  fort  there  some 
day." 

"Vet  you  tell  me  when  too  late  to 
stop  a  silly  move  that  will  upset  the 
whole  business." 

"It  would  have  been  too  late,  sir,  if  I 
had  spoken.  A  soldier  never  disobeys 
orders." 

"Humph!  If  I  were  to  report  this 
to  headquarters  it  would  check  at  once 
your  chances  of  promotion,  and  prob- 
ably your  march  to  Penetang  as  well. " 

"  That  is  the  very  point,  sir,  I  was 
going  to  ask.  I  wish  you  to  report 
me,  together  with  the  request  that  my 
wife  be  allowed  to  accompany  us  to 
Canada.  It  need  be  no  expense  to  the 
War  Department.  She  is  able  per- 
sonally to  defray  all  the  cost." 

•"This  scheme  is  just  as  mad  a 
one  as  getting  married.      Do  you  know 


what  you  ask,  sir  ?  We  are  going 
out  there  in  the  winter-time,  when  the 
frost  is  often  25  degrees  below  zero; 
and  on  landing  start  at  once  on  a 
tramp  of  a  thousand  miles.  Not  over 
the  prairies  and  along  the  roads,  but 
through  the  woods  and  swamps,  and 
over  the  lakes  covered  with  ice  and 
snow  two  feet  thick  or  more.  Then, 
on  account  of  the  war  with  the  United 
States,  our  roads  will  be  straight 
through  the  northern  country,  away 
from  all  towns  and  settlements.  It 
will  be  like  a  trip  through  Siberia  in 
winter.      No  lady  could  stand  it,  sir." 

"  She  will  have  to  remain  at  home, 
then,"  returned  Harold,  dejectedly. 
'  *  But  it  will  be  a  severe  disappointment 
to  her.  She  says  she  can  stand  any- 
thing and  will  give  no  trouble  if  you 
will  permit  her  to  go.  She  would  not 
be  the  only  woman  with  us,  either. 
The  officers  at  mess  were  saying  to- 
day that  the  wives  of  Corporals  Bond 
and  Jenkins  and  Private  Hardman 
have  all  received  orders  to  be  ready." 

"That's  true,"  replied  the  Colonel, 
angrily.  "  But  these  women  are  not 
ladies.  They  are  used  to  roughing  it, 
and  will  do  the  charing  for  the  men 
while  the  fort  is  being  built.  They've 
been  through  camp  life  in  the  European 
wars  for  years.  There's  no  use  talk- 
ing; the  thing  can't  be  tolerated  for  a 
moment.  You  will  have  to  leave  your 
wife  behind  you.  1  look  upon  the 
whole  thing  as  a  breach  of  discipline. 
Still,  as  your  dead  father's  friend, 
and  more  for  his  sake  than  yours,  I 
shall  keep  silent  upon  the  subject  so 
as  not  not  to  check  your  promotion. 
Give  this  despatch  to  Captain  Payne 
as  you  go  out.  Strict  discipline  will 
be  required  from  all  now  until  we  sail. 
So  remember  you  can  only  be  absent 
fromquarters  duringauthorised  hours." 

"  Very  well,  sir."  Lieutenant  Man- 
ning saluted  and  withdrew. 

The  young  wife  waited  the  return  of 
her  husband  that  night  with  much  anx- 
iety. She  had  often  heard  that  Sir 
George  was  a  stern  man,  and  whether 
he  would  condone  a  junior  officer's 
marriage  without  his  knowledge  or 
consent  was  a  very  doubtful  question. 


248 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


"We  must  guard  and  keep  that  wife  of  yours  and  take  her  right  through  to  the  end." 

Drawn  by  F.  H,  Brigden 


As  for  the  journey  with  the  troops  to 
Canada,  she  was  determined  to  go  with 
them  if  she  could;  but  to  do  so  the 
Colonel's  consent  must  be  obtained, 
and  she  was  prepared  to  leave  no 
stone  unturned  in  order  to  accompany 
her  husband.  Harold  had  told  her  it 
would  be  three  years  at  least  before  he 
could    return    to   England  again;  and 


rather  than  remain  that  length  of  time 
away  from  him  she  was  willing  to 
endure  whatever  vicissitudes  an  over- 
land military  journey  in  midwinter 
might  bring.  How  little  she  knew 
what  such  an  undertaking  involved! 

"What  news,  Harold?"  was  her 
first  question,  as  he  stooped  to  kiss 
her  upon  his  arrival. 


THE  BUILDERS 


349 


"  Several  thing^s,"  was  his  reply,  as 
he  tried  to  smile  serenely.  "  First, 
we  sail  on  the  24th." 

**  So  soon  as  that!     What  else?" 
f  •'•  Sir  George  was  angry  at  our  mar- 
riage without  consent." 

"  And  he  will  not  let  me  go?" 

"  I  fear  not,  dearest." 

"Oh,  do  not  give  up  hope  yet," 
was  her  passionate  response,  as  with 
pale  face  and  quivering  lip  she  led 
the  way  to  their  own  room. 


CHAPTER  III 

AN  evening  or  two  later,  a  carriage 
containing  Sir  George  and  Lady 
Head  drew  up  at  a  little  mansion  in  the 
West  End,  the  residence  of  the  retired 
General,  Sir  Charles  Menzies.  The 
house  was  not  brilliantly  illuminated,  a 
subdued  light  gleaming  only  in  a  few 
of  the  windows.  Evidently  there  would 
not  be  many  guests  that  night.  As 
they  alighted,  the  wide  door  in  the  deep 
archway  was  thrown  open,  and  they 
were  ushered  into  the  drawing-room, 
where  the  General  and  his  wife  awaited 
their  arrival. 

"Just  ourselves,"  exclaimed  their 
host  gaily,  "a  lonely  old  couple  who 
have  the  selfishness  to  desire  you  to 
dine  with  them  en  famille,  before  they 
send  you  to  the  wars  again." 

"  It  is  very  kind  of  you,"  was  the 
cordial  response.  "  We  are  both  of 
us  delighted  to  come.  But  about  the 
wars,  General,  I  am  afraid  there  are 
no  more  wars  for  me.  It  is  just 
crossing  the  ocean  to  establish  a  gar- 
rison; and  I  assure  you  that  I  would 
rather  command  a  troop  and  fight  the 
enemy  than  perform  my  allotted  task." 
"  Still,  it  is  all  in  your  country's  ser- 
vice, Colonel;  and  I  assure  you  it 
sometimes  needs  greater  courage  to 
build  a  rampart  than  to  fight  a  battle." 
"  You  may  well  say  that.  General. 
Don't  know  but  what  my  own  case  is 
an  instance.  It  is  a  cut  through  the 
back  country  with  only  a  couple  of 
companies  for  a  following,  as  though 
one  were  sneaking  through  the  bush 
to  escape  the  foe.     After    all,   that  is 


what  it  really  is — for  we  could  not  in 
safety  carry  our  garrison  stores  by  the 
lakes." 

"  Yet  you  may  have  more  than  one 
brush  with  the  enemy  before  you  get 
there." 

"  If  we  do  it  will  be  all  the  merrier," 
returned  Sir  George  with  a  laugh. 
"These  Yankees  are  giving  us  as 
much  as  we  can  carry  just  now,  and 
possibly  there  may  be  fighting  on 
Georgian  Bay  before  it  ends." 

"  How  soon  do  you  sail.  Sir  George?" 
Lady  Menzies  asked. 

"  In  eight  days.  Fortunately,  my 
wife  is  more  contented  over  it  than 
ever  she  was  when  I  went  to  fight  the 
armies  of  the  Little  Corporal.  She 
always  used  to  vow  that  I  would  never 
come  back.  Now  she  believes  that  I 
will." 

"  I  think  he  has  done  fighting 
enough,"  was  that  lady's  quick  re- 
sponse. "To  march  a  few  hundred 
miles  through  the  woods,  to  build  a 
garrison,  and  then  to  return  home,  is 
all  they  ask  of  him;  a  much  better 
prospect — to  his  wife  at  least — than  to 
have  another  fight  with  the  French." 

Dinner  was  announced,  and  the 
host  led  the  way  with  the  Colonel's 
wife  upon  his  arm. 

"That  husband  of  yours  is  a  brave 
fellow,"  was  his  comment;  "and,  my 
lady,  you  need  not  be  nervous  about 
him.  He's  an  able  officer,  a  good 
disciplinarian,  yet  one  of  the  kindest 
men  that  ever  lived." 

"  Perhaps  you  are  thinking  of  Tala- 
vera,"  she  answered,  her  face  flushing 
with  pleasure.  "  You  know  he  helped 
some  of  the  wounded  French  out  of 
the  ditch  after  the  battle  was  over." 

"  Yes,  but  he  made  two  of  his  own 
men  stand  in  the  stocks  all  night  for 
letting  another  Frenchman  runaway," 
was  his  laughing  answer. 

When  seated  at  the  table  the  con- 
versation became  general,  but  soon 
drifted  back  to  Sir  George  Head's 
prospective  trip. 

"  It  will  be  a  new  experience,"  ex- 
claimed Sir  Charles,  "snowshoeing 
through  Canada  in  January  instead  of 
marching  through  Spain  in  July." 


250 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


"I  have  ordered  my  men  a  double 
supply  of  under  flannels  as  a  safe- 
guard," said  the  Colonel. 

"  What  about  night  quarters  on  the 
road  ?"  queried  the  hostess. 

"That  is  where  the  rub  will  come," 
was  his  answer.  **  I  believe  there  are 
no  stopping  places  after  leaving  Mon- 
treal. But  habitants  and  half-breeds 
are  numerous.  They  are  accustomed 
to  the  woods,  and  I  intend  to  take  a 
picked  gang  to  help  the  men  put  up 
temporary  shanties  each  night  on  the 
road.  What  is  more,  abundance  of 
dead  timber  can  be  had  for  the  cutting; 
and  with  good  fires  I  have  no  doubt 
that  we  can  stand  the  journey." 

The  ladies  were  rising  from  the  table 
when  the  rap  of  the  knocker  announced 
the  arrival  of  other  guests. 

"  Oh!  my  dear!"  exclaimed  Lady 
Menzies  to  the  Colonel's  wife.  "  I 
want  to  introduce  my  sweet  grand- 
niece  to  you.  She  has  only  just  be- 
come a  bride,  and  has  promised  with 
her  husband  to  come  in  for  an  hour 
this  evening." 

"We  shall  be  delighted,"  was  the 
reply.  "  You  know  Sir  George  still 
becomes  enraptured  over  a  pretty  face. 
He  always  did." 

The  Colonel  placed  his  hand  over 
his  heart  and  bowed. 

"  If  the  eyes  have  soul  and  the 
mouth  character,"  he  exclaimed,  gal- 
lantly, "  I  hope  I'm  not  too  old  a  dog 
even  yet  to  lose  my  heart.  " 

"  Bravo!"  cried  Sir  Charles,  "  our 
little  girl  is  very  dear  to  us,  but  I  am 
sorry  to  say  we  have  seen  too  little  of 
her  of  late." 

The  two  ladies  left  the  room,  while 
the  gentlemen,  over  another  glass  of 
wine,  continued  to  talk  over  the  war 
and  the  apparently  dim  prospect  of 
peace. 

When  they  entered  the  drawing- 
room,  a  quarter  of  an  hour  later,  Lieu- 
tenant Manning  and  his  bride  were 
there.  A  flash  of  astonishment  swept 
over  Sir  George's  face  as  he  took  in 
the  situation.  But  it  was  only  for  a 
moment.  Gravely,  but  not  unkindly, 
he  off"ered  his  greetings  as  Lady  Men- 
zies introduced  Helen  to  him. 


Her  appearance  was  striking.  With 
broad  forehead,  dark  hair  and  lustrous 
eyes,  she  carried  her  two  and  twenty 
years  very  gracefully.  She  was  not  a 
bashful  girl,  just  out  of  her  teens,  but 
a  large-souled  woman,  who  knew 
much  of  the  experiences  of  life;  and 
had  made  her  choice,  determined,  by 
all  that  was  holy,  to  be  a  help-meet  for 
the  man  she  had  married.  Though 
scarcely  at  ease,  she  looked  up  into 
Sir  George's  face  with  a  frank  smile  as 
she  received  his  greeting. 

"  I  am  glad  to  have  the  opportunity 
of  meeting  you,"  he  said,  looking 
steadily  into  her  eyes.  "  Lieutenant 
Manning  informed  me  that  he  was 
married;  though  I  assure  you  it  is  a 
surprise  to  find  that  his  wife  is  a  rela- 
tive of  my  old  friend,  the  General." 

"  Harold  did  not  tell  you,  then,  who 
I  was?" 

"Unfortunately,  he  did  not;  but  per- 
haps it  was  my  own  fault.  I  was  so 
astonished  that  I  fear  I  did  not  ask 
him.  And  how  are  you,  Mr.  Manning? 
I  think  you  have  been  stealing  a  march 
on  me  all  round." 

"  Is  not  marching  a  soldier's  duty?" 
returned  Harry,  with  a  merry  glance  at 
his  wife. 

"  Yes,  but  countermarching  is  a 
diff"erent  thing."  There  was  a  twinkle 
in  the  gallant  Colonel's  eye,  as  he 
gravely  shook  his  head,  that  was  not 
discouraging. 

In  a  veiled  way  Sir  George  watched 
every  movement  that  she  made.  Her 
self-control  surprised  him,  knowing  as 
she  must  that  her  own  future  as  well 
as  that  of  her  husband  were  in  his 
hands.  Soon  an  opportunity  for  a 
personal  talk  presented  itself. 

Sir  Charles  had  been  adding  to  his 
collection  of  paintings,  and  was  par- 
ticularly proud  of  a  Reynold's  Beauty 
that  he  had  recently  purchased,  as  well 
as  a  French  landscape  by  Turner,  who 
at  that  time  was  winning  fame  as  an 
artist.  While  the  others  were  looking 
intently  at  the  delicate  colouring  and 
divine  symmetry  exhibited  in  the  por- 
trait by  the  master,  Helen  had  ling- 
ered by  Turner's  picture.  It  was  one 
of   his   "Rivers   of    France,"    and  an 


THE  BUILDERS 


251 


illustration  of  the  parting  of  lovers 
beneath  stately  trees  on  the  banks  of 
the  Seine. 

"That  is  a  remarkable  picture," 
said  Sir  George  over  her  shoulder, 
"  and  said  to  be  an  incident  in  the 
artist's  own  life.  I  did  not  know  that 
Menzies  had  it,  though  I  have  seen  it 
more  than  once  in  Turner's  studio." 

"  I  have  heard  of  it,"  returned 
Helen  gravely.  *'  He  was,  as  he  seems, 
passionately  in  love.  Pity  it  came  to 
such  a  sad  ending." 

'*  It  was  her  villainous  stepmother's 
fault,"  said  the  Colonel.  "  She  inter- 
cepted all  his  letters,  and,  when  the 
maiden  believed  herself  forsaken,  she 
took  a  woman's  revenge,  and  made 
herself  miserable  by  marrying  another 
man." 

"A  miserable  revenge  it  was,"  re- 
turned Helen  warmly,  "  and  one  that 
few  women  would  take  advantage 
of." 

"  I  am  not  so  sure  about  that," 
was  Sir  George's  grave  response. 
•'I  am  sorry  to  say  I  have  known 
women  do  that  very  thing,  though  I 
acknowledge  they  must  have  been 
vastly  foolish." 

"If  they  had  married  before  that 
long  tour  of  his,"  said  Helen  earnestly, 
"  when  they  were  both  in  love,  the 
letters  would  not  have  been  inter- 
cepted; and,  of  course,  they  would  have 
been  happy  ever  afterwards." 

"Marriage  is  always  a  serious  busi- 
ness," said  Sir  George,  looking  gravely 
into  her  eyes. 

"  Ves,  I  know  it  is."  There  was  a 
little  tremor  in  her  voice  this  time, 
"  but  when  one  does  it  bravely  and 
with  open  eyes,  it  is  not  too  serious 
to  be  borne." 

"  And  are  you  sure  you  can  bear  it, 
Mrs.  Manning,  whatever  comes  ?"  he 
asked  with  almost  a  touch  of  stern- 
ness in  his  voice. 

"Ves — I  believe   I  can." 

"I,  too,  believe  it,  since  I  have  seen 
you.  Still,  for  your  sake  I  am  sorry  it 
has  happened.  It  would  have  been 
much  better  to  have  waited." 

"  For  myself  I  believe  I  shall  never 
regret  it,"  said  Helen,  "  whatever  hap- 


pens.     It  is  only  the  future  of  my  hus- 
band that  I  fear." 

"  I  am  glad  to  be  able  to  relieve 
your  mind  on  that  score;"  but  there 
was  sternness  still  in  his  voice. 
"  Lieutenant  Manning  has  always  been 
a  brave  officer,  and  his  future  is  cei- 
tain." 

"  Thank  you.  Colonel,  for  the  word. 
I  know  his  record,  and  I  assure  you  as 
a  soldier's  daughter,  as  well  as  a  sol- 
dier's wife,  I  shall  never  stand  in  his 
way." 

She  stood  very  erect,  but  she  dashed 
a  tear  away  as  the  words  flashed  fronrtu* 
her  lips. 

"Nobly  said,"  was  Sir  George's 
comment,  as  the  General  and  the 
other  ladies  joined  them.  Harold  had 
purposely  wandered  off  to  the  far  end 
of  the  room  to  inspect  some  ancient 
weapons,  of  which  Sir  Charles  had  a 
valuable  collection;  but  he  returned  in 
time  to  hear  their  hostess  ask  her  niece 
to  sing. 

"  I  cannot  sing  to-night  as  the  lin- 
nets sing,"  she  replied,  with  a  half  sad, 
half  mischievous  glance  at  Harold, 
"  but  as  my  heart  tells  me." 

"That  is  what  we  want,  dearest," 
he  whispered. 

Seating  herself  at  the  piano,  her 
fingers  ran  lightly  over  the  keys. 
Then,  in  a  rich  contralto  voice,  she 
poured  out  Goethe's  favourite:  "  To 
the  chosen  one."  There  was  the 
beauty  of  passion  in  every  line  of  her 
first  verse: 

"  '  Hand  in  hand!  and  lip  to  lip! 

Oh,  be  faithful,  maiden  dear! 
Fare-thee-well!  thy  lovers  ship 

Past  full  many  a  rock  must  steer; 
But  should  he  the  haven  see 

When  the  storm  has  ceased  to  break, 
And  be  happy,  reft  of  thee — 

May  the  g^ods  fierce  vengeance  take!'  " 

There  was  exultation  as  she  sang 
the  second  stanza: 

"  '  Boldly  dared,  is  well  nigh  won. 

Half  my  task  is  solved  aright. 
Every  star's  to  me  a  sun, 

Only  cowards  deem  it  night. 
Strode  I  idly  by  thy  side. 

Sorrow  still  would  sadden  me. 
But  when  seas  our  paths  divide. 

Gladly  toil  I — toil  for  thee.'  " 


252 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


Then,  with  all  the  tenderness  of  her 
impassioned  soul,  she  breathed  out  the 
last  lines: 

'* '  Now  the  valley  I  perceive 

Where  together  we  will  go, 
And  the  streamlet  watch  each  eve 

Gliding  peacefully  below. 
Oh,  the  poplars  on  yon  spot! 

Oh,  the  beech  trees  in  yon  grove! 
And  behind  we'll  build  a  cot 

Where  to  taste  the  joys  of  love.'  " 

••You  are  a  brave  girl,"  cried  the 
Colonel,  as  she  finished  the  song, 
'•and  you  well  merit  everything  that 
the  gods  can  give  you;  Lieutenant 
Manning  should  be  proud  to  have  you 
for  his  wife — whatever  happens." 

Saying  which  he  turned  and  asked 
Lady  Menzies  to  be  his  partner  at  a 
rubber  of  whist,  for  which  Sir  Charles 
and  Lady  Head  were  waiting.  Hence, 
the  four  elderly  people  were  soon  inter- 
ested in  the  game;  while  the  bride  and 
groom,  ostensibly  examining  curios, 
were  in  reality  taxing  their  souls  with 
a  thousand  questions  relative  to  the 
future. 

CHAPTER  IV 

THE  European  war  was  drawing  to 
a  close,  or  rather  to  an  intense  lull 
before  the  final  conflict.  Napoleon's 
arrogance,  in  declining  to  yield  a  jot 
of  German  territory  to  Austria's  de- 
mand, culminated  eventually  in  his 
crushing  defeat  at  Leipzic,  in  the 
'•Battle  of  the  Nations."  The  British 
forces,  too,  were  successful  wherever 
they  turned  their  arms  and,  at  Vit- 
toria,  Wellington  completely  routed 
the  legions  of  Joseph  Bonaparte.  Be- 
fore the  close  of  the  year  disasters 
were  even  more  complete,  and  the 
remains  of  Napoleon's  armies  were 
driven  out  of  Germany  as  well  as  Spain. 
British  veterans,  inured  by  the  dis- 
cipline and  fatigues  of  campaign  life, 
were  fast  returning  to  their  own 
shores,  and  it  was  from  these  that  Sir 
George  Head's  companies  were  chosen. 
Already  they  had  spent  months  in  the 
rest  of  barrack  life  and,  tired  of  inac- 
tivity, they  welcomed  the  call  to  duty 
again. 


There  was  something  alluring  to  the 
soldier  in  the  thought  of  service  in 
America,  whether  engaged  in  active 
warfare  or  not.  The  Western  con- 
tinent was  an  El  Dorado  toward  which 
all  eyes  were  turned.  It  offered  a 
different  prospect  to  camp  life  in 
Europe,  where  prospective  and  actual 
battles  were  looked  upon  as  the  be-all 
and  end-all  of  the  soldier's  career.  Of 
emigration  to  Europe  there  was  none, 
but  of  emigration  to  America,  save 
for  the  brief  interruption  caused  by  the 
war  with  the  States,  there  was  a  never 
ending  stream. 

Hence,  when  the  seared  soldiers  of 
Wellington's  brigades  were  told  to 
prepare  to  cross  the  Atlantic,  either  to 
fight  the  Americans  or  to  guard  the 
British  frontier  from  invasion,  hats 
went  up,  cheers  echoed  through  the 
air,  and  every  man  became  an  enthus- 
iast. 

For  many  days  the  North  King,  one 
of  the  largest  war  vessels  of  the  period, 
had  been  undergoing  repairs.  Her 
keel  was  repainted,  her  hold  thor- 
oughly cleansed,  and  additional  iron 
girders  put  in  to  strengthen  her  bul- 
warks. Her  gun-carriages  were  re- 
arranged and,  to  meet  any  possible 
contingency,  new  guns  were  added. 
Then  vast  and  unusual  stores  were 
loaded  upon  her,  not  for  the  use  of  the^^ 
troops  only,  but  for  the  building  and 
maintenance  of  the  new  fort  as  well. 

In  direct  preparation  for  the  pros- 
pective voyage,  perhaps  no  man  was 
so  actively  engaged  as  Captain  Payne 
of  the  Royal  Engineers.  To  him  was 
assigned  the  erection  of  the  new  fort 
at  Penetang,  together  with  whatever 
barracks  might  be  required  for  the 
accommodation  of  the  men,  when  the 
journey's  end  was  reached.  What 
added  much  to  his  difficulties  was  the 
selection  and  packing  of  materials 
suitable  for  transmission  over  a  thou- 
sand miles  of  territory,  and  this  in 
midwinter,  with  three-fourths  of  the 
journey  directly  through  the  woods. 

But  Captain  Payne  was  equal  to  the 
occasion,  and  days  before  the  time  of 
sailing  the  holds  of  the  ship  were 
packed  with  an  abundance  of  stores. 


THE  BUILDERS 


253 


rj 


In  completing'  and  carrying  out  the 
arrangements,  Harold's  time  was 
largely  occupied,  so  that  it  was  late 
each  evening  before  he  could  have 
leave  of  absence  to  see  his  wife. 
These  brief  interviews  were  very  pre- 
cious to  them;  but  to  their  amazement 
days  passed  without  a  single  word 
from  the  Colonel.  Apparently  he  had 
not  relented.  Still  Helen  hoped  on, 
while  she  devoted  all  her  time  to  prep- 
aration for  a  possible  future.  At  last 
a  message  came. 

"Colonel  Head  desires  an  interview 
with  Lieutenant  Manning  ten  minutes 
before  parade." 

This  was  the  contents  of  a  note 
handed  to  Harold  in  the  early  morning 
three  days  before  sailing. 

With  a  convulsive  leap  the  young 
man's  heart  seemed  to  bound  into  his 
throat.  What  could  it  mean  ?  Would 
his  wife,  after  all,  be  allowed  to  go? 
Then,  perhaps  for  the  first  time,  some- 
thing like  an  adequate  conception  of 
the  magnitude  and  danger  of  the 
journey,  particularly  to  a  lady  unac- 
customed to  physical  privation  of  any 
kind,  forced  itself  upon  him.  Was  he 
right  to  yield  to  their  mutual  desire, 
and  carry  her  off  with  the  troops  in 
midwinter,  and  while  war  was  still 
raging?  Could  it  possibly  be  his  duty 
to  transfer  his  bride  from  the  comforts 
of  home  and  the  social  world  to  the 
complexity  of  adverse  conditions  which 
the  trip  must  inevitably  bring?'  He 
knew  that  her  desire  to  go  was  just  as 
keen  as  ever.  It  had  also  been  his 
own  passionate  wish  during  the  week 
that  had  elapsed  since  their  marriage; 
but  as  he  neared  the  Colonel's  quar- 
ters he  found  himself  actually  hoping 
that  the  final  edict  would  forbid  his 
wife  to  undertake  the  journey. 

With  many  conflicting  thoughts, 
Harold  joined  his  fellow-officers  at 
mess  that  morning.  All  were  there. 
Even  Sir  George  had  walked  over  from 
his  private  residence  to  breakfast  with 
them.  From  his  manner,  however,  he 
could  surmise  nothing.  Neither  by 
word  nor  look  did  the  Colonel  indicate 
what  was  passing  through  his  mind; 
still,  at  the  appointed  time,  Harold  pre- 


sented himself  at  the  Colonel's  office. 

"  I  intended  my  first  reply  to  your 
request  to  be  the  decisive  one," 
said  Sir  George,  without  any  prelude 
whatever.  "  But  my  mind  may  have 
changed  somewhat.  Do  I  understand 
that  your  wife  still  desires  to  go  with 
us?" 

"Yes,  sir,"  was  Harold's  quick 
response. 

"  Has  she  thought  the  matter  out 
in  all  its  bearings  ?  And  does  she 
appreciate  how  much  of  hardships  and 
privations  the  trip  will  involve;  to  say 
nothing  of  the  vicissitudes  she  will  be 
obliged  to  endure  after  we  get  to  our 
destination?" 

"She  has  considered  all  these.  Sir 
George,  and  her  mind  has  remained 
unchanged,"  said  Harold. 

"  It  is  a  big  undertaking,"  mut- 
tered the  Colonel,  and  for  a  minute  he 
walked  up  and  down  the  room  with 
his  hands  behind  his  back. 

"  I  know  it  is;  but  fortunately  she 
has  means  of  her  own,  and  can  amply 
pay  for  whatever  extra  expenditure 
may  be  incurred  on  her  account." 

"  That  is  satisfactory,"  said  the 
Colonel,  "  and,  after  all,  the  objections 
may  not  be  insuperable.  I  have,  I 
must  confess,  a  strong  admiration  for 
your  wife,  and  if  we  succeed  in  estab- 
lishing a  fort  at  Penetang,  she  will,  if 
she  goes,  be  its  brightest  ornament." 

"Thank  you  very  much  for  saying 
so,"  exclaimed  Harold,  his  face  flush- 
ing with  undisguised  pleasure.  "  And 
am  I  to  take  this  as  equivalent  to  your 
consent  ?" 

"  Well,  yes,  if  she  is  as  firmly  con- 
vinced as  ever  that  it  is  the  wisest  and 
best  thing  for  her  to  do." 

For  some  moments  Harold  stood 
still  with  his  hands  pressed  upon  the 
desk  in  front  of  him.  The  old  ques- 
tions were  coming  back  again:  Was 
it  wisest  ?  was  it  best? 

"  What  is  it,  lad  ?"  said  the  Colonel 
in  a  kindly  tone,  although  he  observed 
him  keenly. 

"  I  was  just  thinking,"  stammered 
Harold,  "what  a  terrible  thing  it  would 
be,  when  too  late,  if  it  should  prove  to 
be  a  mistake." 


254 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


**  That  is    possible,"    returned    the  to  the  last  of  them  will  do  what  they 

Colonel,  again  walking  up  and  down  can  to  make  the  journey  comfortable, 

the   floor.       "  But   remember,    if  faint  if  she  decides  to  undertake  it." 

heart  never  won  fair  lady,  neither  did  "  I    thank    you,    Colonel,    from  the 

timid    soldier   ever  win   a   battle.      If  bottom    of    my  heart,"    said    Harold, 

you  go  into  the  thing  at  all  you  go  in  warmly,    grasping    his    chief   by    the 

to  win.      Every  obstacle  must  be  over-  hand. 

thrown.      We   must    guard   and    keep  "  That  is  all  right,"  was  the  smiling 

that    wife    of    yours — take    her  right  response.      "One  more  point — as  your 

through    to   the    end — and  crown  her  wife   may   need    every  remaining  mo-. 

Queen   of  the   little  fortress  of  Pene-  ment  for  preparation,  you  are  relieved 

tang — yet  to  be  built."  from  duty  from  now  out,  so   that  you 

"  It  is  very  good  of  you,  Colonel,"  can  give  her  the   news  and  aid   her  in 

was  all  Harold  could  say.  preparation." 

"  Well,  we'll  leave  it  all  to  the  lady  Harold    saluted,    and     in     another 

herself.       Explain   everything    to   her;  minute  was  speeding  along   the  street 

but  tell  her  from  me  that  our  officers  to  give  his  wife  the  message, 
are  fine  fellows,  and  from  the  Colonel 

TO   BE   CONTINUED 


THE    DREAMER 

BV    EMILY    MCMANUS 

STAY  not  to  pity  the  dreamer; 
What  needs  he  lands  or  gold — 
The  lord  of  a  kingdom  fairer 
Than  ever  in  story  told? 

If  the  world  grows  dark  and  joyless 

He  mounts  by  a  golden  stair, 
A  brother  of  gods  at  the  summit, 

For  the  dreams  of  his. heart  are  there. 

No  longer  an  endless  endeavour 
To  perfect  the  wonders  planned; 

No  window  remains  unfinished 

In  the  towers  of  that  shining  land. 

Lo!  the  winds  give  up  their  secrets; 

And  the  blush  of  the  rose  is  a  word 
Attuned  to  the  nuptial  music 

The  bowers  of  Eden  heard; 

For  she  comes  in  the  hush  of  the  sunset, 

For  whom  his  spirit  cries. 
The  glory  of  youth  on  her  forehead 

And  love  in  her  shining  eyes. 

What  matters  the  cry  of  the  markets. 
The  glitter,  the  hurry,  the  hate  ? 

They  stay  in  the  world  with  the  worldlings, 
Nor  enter  this  golden  gate. 

Then  why  should  ye  pity  the  dreamer? 

He  feasts  with  the  chosen  few, 
He  dies — and  there,  in  the  dawning, 

Who  knows  but  his  dreams  come  true? 


If 


=:'7=TT] 


^~ 


:     V\L  miXT  J 


QT.A.G.BRADLEY 


A   HISTORY   IN    TWELVE 
INSTALMENTS     ^     ^     n^ 


LAST  INSTALMENT— MURRAY  ASCENDS  TUK  ST  LAWRENCE  TO  MONTREAL 
—AMHERST  DESCENDS  THE  RIVER  FROM  LAKE  ONTARIO— HAVILAXD, 
WITH  T+IIRD  ARMY.  JOINS  THEM  FROM  THE  SOUTH— SURRENDER  OF 
MONTREAL   AND   THE    FRENCH    POSSESSIONS   IX    NORTH    AMERICA   TO 

GREAT   BRITAIN   -1760. 


NCE  more,  and  for  the  last 
time,  three  movements 
were  planned  on  Canada, 
and  it  was  hardly  possible 
that  what  was  left  her 
could  escape  being  crushed  between 
them  as  in  a  vice.  Murray,  his  small 
veteran  army  increasing  daily  in 
strength  from  returning  health,  carried 
and  supported  along  an  open  water- 
way by  an  excellent  fleet,  had  the 
easiest  task  of  all.  Amherst  himself, 
with  nearly  11,000  men,  was  muster- 
ing at  Oswego,  and  he  was  to  descend 
the  St.  Lawrence  to  Montreal,  the 
general  rendezvous,  where  the  heart  of 
Canada  still  beat  defiantly,  if  with 
waning  vigour.  The  physical  diffi- 
culties here  were  more  formidable 
than  any  which  L^vis  was  likely  to 
contrive.  Amherst  had  no  full  knowl- 
edge of  the  rapids  of  the  St.  Lawrence. 
He  counted  them  as  an  obstacle,  but 
he  hardly  realised  their  fury.  As  for 
the  third  attack,  it  is  needless  to  say 
it  was  from  Lake  Champlain,  whose 
forts  at  Crown  Point  and  Ticonderoga 


now  made  an  admirable  base  for  the 
forcing  of  the  passage  of  the  Richelieu 
at  He  aux  Noix.  Colonel  and  Briga- 
dier Haviland  was  given  the  command 
of  this  enterprise,  and  a  force  of  only 
3,500  men,  so  greatly  had  the  events 
of  the  last  year  altered  the  scheme  of 
Canadian  defence  and  reduced  the 
strength  of  its  resistance.  L6vis  had 
now  about  8,000  troops  of  various 
sorts  at  his  disposal,  besides  Indians, 
with  a  base  at  Montreal.  Roughly 
speaking,  this  city  represented  the 
point  where  the  two  lines  meet  which 
form  the  letter  T,  the  three  arms 
spreading  from  it  being  the  approach- 
ing routes  of  the  three  English  armies, 
mustering  between  them  not  far 
off"  20.000  men.  I  do  not  propose 
to  deal  at  any  length  with  the  details 
of  these  three  advances,  not  because 
there  was  no  fighting,  as  Amherst  and 
Haviland  were  both  opposed,  so  far  as 
Levis'  scattered  forces  could  oppose 
them.  But  the  resistance  was  neces- 
sarily feeble,  and  it  was  a  question  of 
good  organisation  and  energy,  rather 


256 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


than  military  force,  which  brought  to 
a  happy  termination  a  summer's  cam- 
paigning which,  on  paper,  at  any  rate, 
looked  a  foregone  conclusion. 

It  will   be  enough  to  say  that  Mur- 
ray crept  steadily  on,  giving  those  dis- 
tricts which  submitted  every  testimony 
of  present   and  future   clemency,  and 
making  a  stern  example,  though  with 
a  sore  heart,  of  the  few  who  did  not. 
At  the  mouth  of  the  Richelieu,  where 
Haviland  was   expected   by  the  Cham- 
plain  route,  they  found  large  bodies  of 
the  main  French   army,  under  Bourla- 
maque   and  Dumas,  waiting  for  both 
English    attacks,   who    followed  them 
upon  either  shore  as  they  forged  along 
the  winding  river,  even  then  lined  with 
farms  and  villages,  towards  the  island 
of    Montreal.     At    the    island    of  St. 
Th^r^se,  a  few  miles   below  the  city, 
Murray  halted,  and  awaited  the  arrival 
of  Haviland    and  Amherst.     The  for- 
mer, in  the  meanwhile,  had  been  push- 
ing  the    French    steadily  before  him, 
and  arrived  below  Montreal  soon  after 
Murray,   where  both   waited    at  their 
leisure  for  Amherst,  who  was  descend- 
ing the  St.   Lawrence  upon  the  other 
side  of  the  city,    and   was   even  now 
close  at  hand.     On  the  6th  of  Septem- 
ber Amherst    arrived,    and    the  triple 
movement    was    completed    with    an 
accuracy  that    did    credit    to    all  con- 
cerned. 

The  situation  of  the  French,  in  this 
their  last  stronghold,  was  quite  hope- 
less. Montreal  was  not  a  natural  fort- 
ress like  Quebec,  and,  even  if  it  had 
been,  the  inevitable  could  not  have 
been  materially  deferred.  The  Swed- 
ish professor,  whose  memories  of  Lake 
Champlain  have  been  quoted  in  a 
former  chapter,  came  on  to  Montreal, 
and  gives  us  a  vivid  picture  of  what  it 
looked  like  ten  years  or  so  before  this, 
the  year  of  its  surrender.  It  had,  of 
course,  the  St.  Lawrence  on  one  side 
of  it,  and  on  the  three  others  a  deep 
ditch  full  of  water.  It  was  surrounded 
by  a  high  and  thick  wall,  but  covered 
too  much  ground,  from  the  scattered 
nature  of  the  houses,  to  be  defended 
by  a  small  force.  Unlike  Quebec,  too, 
most   of  the  private   houses  were    of 


wood,  though  admirably  built.  There 
were  several  churches  and  convents 
and  seminaries — fine  buildings  of  stone 
mostly  surrounded  by  spacious  gar- 
dens-— while  the  streets  were  broad 
and  straight,  and  some  of  them  paved. 
In  the  background  rose  "  the  Moun- 
tain," then  clad  in  virgin  forests, 
which,  upon  this  fateful  7th  of  Septem- 
ber, had  not  as  yet  been  touched  by 
autumn's  fiery  hand.  Before  the  city 
flowed  the  noble  river,  not  long  calmed 
down  from  the  fury  of  the  La  Chine 
rapids,  and  at  this  point  little  less  than 
two  miles  broad.  Knox  more  than 
endorses  Kalm's  eulogies,  and  thinks 
Montreal  the  most  delightful  place  he 
has  seen.  The  fortifications  were 
contemptible,  but  "the  excellence  of 
the  private  houses,  the  magnificence 
of  the  public  buildings,  the  pleasant 
country  seats  and  villas  scattered  about 
amid  gardens  and  plantatigns  outside 
the  walls,  and,  above  all,  the  charm  of 
the  situation,"  enchants  the  gallant 
captain,*  in  a  mood,  no  doubt,  just 
then  to  be  easily  pleased.  To  see  the 
gay  crowd  in  the  streets,  too,  the  silk 
cloaks  and  laced  coats  and  powdered 
heads,  one  would  have  supposed,  he 
says,  that  these  people,  instead  of  be- 
ing the  victims  of  a  long  and  disas- 
trous war,  were  all  in  the  enjoyment  of 
ample  and  unimpaired  fortunes.  But 
this  is  anticipating  a  little,  for  Knox 
and  his  friends  were  not  yet  actually 
inside. 

Here,  within  or  around  the  city,  if 
importance  in  lieu  of  population  can 
justify  the  term,  were  gathered  all  the 
civil  and  military  chiefs  of  Canada,  for 
once,  at  least,  united  in  the  conviction 
that  all  hope  had  fled.  The  thoughts 
of  the  civilians  had  by  far  the  most 
cause  to  be  gloomy.  The  Intendant 
Bigot,  Cadet  and  their  band  of  para- 
sites saw  with  despair  the  bone  they 
had  so  long  picked,  passing  from  their 
grasp — the  goose  that  for  them  alone 
had  lain  so  many  golden  eggs  at 
length  on  the  point  of  extinction,  a 
fate  in  part  due  to  their  former  im- 
prudences.     But   worse   than  all  they 

*Knox  would  seem  to  have  got  his  majority 
about  this  time. 


THE  FIGHT  FOR  NORTH  AMERICA 


257 


saw  an  outraged  king  and  government 
beyond  the  ocean,  who,  maddened  with 
their  loss,  would  welcome  with  joy  the 
poor  consolation  of  demanding  an 
account  of  a  stewardship  so  infamously 
outraged.  As  for  the  military  lead- 
ers, however  bitter  their  feelings,  they 
were  those  of  brave  and  honourable 
men,  suffering  the  chagrin  of  defeat 
which  they  had  for  some  time  become 
accustomed  to  regard  as  inevitable. 
L^vis,  Bourlamaque  and  Bougainville 
had  little  cause  for  self-reproach,  for 
they  had  done  all  that  men  could  do. 
Since  the  near  approach  of  the  British 
a  rapid  dissolution  of  the  French  army 
had  set  in.  The  Indians  had  entirely 
repudiated  their  ancient  allies  and 
patrons,  while  the  militia  had  gone 
home  to  a  man.  The  married  soldiers 
of  the  colony  regulars  had  in  great 
part  deserted,  while  many  of  the 
French  linesmen  who  had  married  in 
the  country  had  done  the  same.  Only 
2,500  troops,  mostly  French  regulars, 
now  remained  with  L^vis  and  his  offi- 
cers. They  had  provisions  for  a  fort- 
night, and  represented  the  entire 
resisting  force  of  ihe  colony.  Amherst, 
Murray  and  Haviland  lay  outside  the 
town  with  seventeen  or  eighteen  thou- 
sand men,  mostly  veterans.  It  was, 
indeed,  the  end  of  all  things.  Vau- 
dreuil  held  a  council  of  war  on  the  6th, 
which  was  naturally  unanimous,  on 
the  necessity  of  an  immediate  capitu- 
lation. Bougainville,  however,  was 
sent  early  on  the  following  day  to 
Amherst  with  a  proposal  to  suspend 
hostilities  for  a  month — which  reads 
like  a  very  poor  joke.  Vaudreuil  per- 
haps felt  ashamed  of  it  as  he  quickly 
followed  with  an  offer  of  capitulation, 
specifying  terms  which  had  been  ap- 
proved by  his  council.  There  were 
forty-five  clauses,  most  of  which 
Amherst  agreed  to,  though  a  few  were 
summarily  rejected.  Levis  and  his 
officers  had  fully  counted  on  being 
allowed  to  marcTi  out  with  their  arms 
and  the  honours  of  war.  Amherst 
bluntly  insisted  that  the  troops  should 
lay  down  their  arms  unconditionally 
as  prisoners,  and  undertake  not  to 
serve    in    Europe    during   the  present 


war.  Levis  bitterly  resented  this,  and 
himself  sent  de  la  Pause,  his  quarter- 
master-general, to  plead  with  the  Eng- 
lish general  against  this  rigorous 
condition.  Amherst,  however,  not 
only  refused,  but,  according  to  Knox, 
who  was  on  the  ground,  sternly 
silenced  Levis'  envoy,  and  told  him 
that  he  was  '*  fully  resolved,  for  the 
infamous  part  the  troops  of  France 
had  acted  in  exciting  the  savages  to 
perpetrate  the  most  horrid  and  un- 
heard-of barbarities  in  the  whole  prog- 
ress of  the  war,  and  for  other  open 
treacheries,  as  well  as  flagrant  breaches 
of  faith,  to  manifest  to  all  the  world 
by  this  capitulation  his  detestation  of 
such  ungenerous  practices  and  disap- 
probation of  their  conduct,  therefore 
insisted  he  must  decline  any  remon- 
strance on  the  subject." 

Upon  this  L^vis  demanded  of  Vau- 
dreuil that  the  negotiations  should  be 
broken  off,  or  if  not,  that  the  troops 
should  retire  to  St.  Helen's  island  upon 
their  own  responsibility,  and  resist  to 
the  utmost  rather  than  accept  such 
terms.  One  does  not,  of  course,  feel 
quite  convinced  of  the  sincerity  of  a 
suggestion  that  was  so  superfluous, 
and  not  perhaps  palatable,  and  cer- 
tainly unfair,  to  the  rank  and  file,  but 
in  any  case  Vaudreuil  remained  firm, 
and  on  the  8th  of  September  the  capit- 
ulation as  amended  by  Amherst  was 
formally  signed.  Thus,  by  a  stroke  of 
the  pen,  Canada  was  transferred  to  the 
British  crown,  and,  save  for  the  small 
settlement  of  New  Orleans,  far  away 
in  the  remote  South,  on  the  Gulf  of 
Mexico,  the  French  power,  recently  so 
potent  and  so  threatening,  disappeared 
forever  from  North  America.  Among 
some  of  de  Vaudreuil's  stipulations 
was  one  that  the  British  Indians  should 
be  sent  away.  Amherst  refused  it, 
proudly  replying  that  no  Frenchman 
surrendering  under  treaty  had  yet  ever 
suffered  from  outrage  by  Indians  co- 
operating with  a  British  army.  The 
gist  of  the  articles  of  capitulation  may 
be  briefly  summed  up.  All  the  regular 
troops  in  Canada,  not  only  at  Mon- 
treal, but  the  small  isolated  garrisons 
together    with    the  officials,'  civil  and 


2?8 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


military,  were  to  be  conveyed  to 
France  in  British  ships.  Whoever 
wished  to  leave  the  country  was  per- 
mitted to  do  so,  a  period  of  grace 
being  given  for  the  winding  up  of 
necessary  business  matters,  such  as 
the  collections  of  debts  or  sale  of 
property.  Entire  religious  freedom 
was  wisely  granted,  though  a  clause 
reserving  a  power  of  clerical  appoint- 
ments to  the  French  throne  was  as 
wisely  rejected,  while  some  minor 
clauses,  though  not  rejected,  were  re- 
served for  the  King  of  England's 
pleasure. 

It  was  a  well-seasoned  and  a  war- 
worn group,  too,  that  gathered  round 
the  victorious  Amherst  in  the  Place 
d'Armes  at  Montreal,  when  he  paraded 
his  troops  for  the  formal  submission  of 
the  Marquis  de  Vaudreuil.  Some  of 
the  chief  actors  in  the  past  seven  years 
of  war,  Monckton,  Bouquet  and  Wash- 
ington, were  absent  with  good  cause. 
Wolfe  and  Prideaux,  the  elder  Howe 
and  Braddock,  Forbes  and  many 
others,  were  in  the  grave.  Two  or 
three  had  laid  their  reputations  there, 
but  were  themselves  still  among  the 
living,  though  beyond  the  sea. 

But  at  that  ceremony,  whose  infinite 
significance  is  more  apparent  to  our 
eyes  now  than  to  those  of  the  purblind 
and  preoccupied  Europe  of  that  day, 
there  was  a  goodly  throng  of  warriors 
who  had  well  earned  the  exultation 
that  was  theirs.  Some  of  them  lived 
to  win  far  greater  fame,  others  to  bury 
such  as  they  had  won  in  a  still  distant 
struggle  upon  the  same  familiar  scenes. 

Murray  and  Haviland  led  their 
brigades.  Burton  and  Gage,  who  had 
seen  the  whole  war  through  from  the 
commencement,  and  Eraser,  the  gal- 
lant Highlander,  headed  their  respect- 
ive regiments.  Carleton,  who  was  to 
become  a  famous  Viceroy  of  Canada 
and  to  die  Lord  Dorchester,  was  here; 
and  Howe,  too,  whose  leadership  up 
the  cliffs  at  the  Anse  du  Foulon  was 
to  be  unhappily  forgotten  in  his  failure 
against  the  Americans  in  after  days. 
The  Swiss  soldier  and  scholar,  Haldi- 
mand,  who  was  also  to  govern  Canada 
wisely    and  well,   was   in    the   group. 


Sir  William  Johnson,  the  baronet  of 
the  Mohawk  valley,  the  master  spirit 
of  the  Six  Nations,  the  only  white  man 
on  the  continent  the  Indians  really 
bowed  to,  was  here,  tall  and  muscular, 
cheery  and  unceremonious.  No  such 
picture  would  be  complete  without 
Rogers.  No  man  had  faced  death  so 
often — Rogers  with  a  hundred  lives, 
that  prince  of  backwoods  fighters,  and 
his  two  brothers,  each  commanders  of 
companies,  and  only  inferior  to  him- 
self. Calling  and  Hazen,  too,  though 
but  captains,  as  leaders  of  light  in- 
fantry, it  would  be  ill  forgetting. 
Schuyler  and  Lyman,  the  New  York 
and  Massachusetts  colonels,  in  blue 
uniforms  and  three-cornered  hats, 
were  conspicuous  among  their  fellows, 
and  were  to  be  heard  of  again  in  still 
more  conspicuous  fashion.  Nor  should 
we  forget  in  what  is,  after  all,  but  a 
partial,  and,  perhaps,  even  invidious 
retrospect,  the  gallant  naval  captain 
Loring,  who  handled  Amherst's  im- 
provised fleets  on  Lake  Champlain 
and  the  St.  Lawrence  with  unwearied 
energy;  nor  yet  Patrick  Mackellar, 
whose  forts  and  ramparts  and  re- 
doubts were  strewn  over  the  whole 
range  of  conflict,  and  may  yet  be 
traced  by  the  curious  under  forest 
leaves,  or  amid  bustling  towns,  or  in 
track  of  the  farmer's  plough.  Jealous- 
ies between  redcoats  and  bluecoats 
and  men  in  hunting  shirts,  we  may 
well  believe,  were  now,  at  any  rate, 
for  the  moment,  laid  to  rest.  Within 
a  few  days  ship  after  ship  bearing  the 
remnants  of  the  French  army  had 
dropped  down  the  river.  All  that  re- 
mained was  to  carry  Vaudreuil's 
orders  of  submission  to  the  small 
French  posts  upon  the  St.  Lawrence 
and  in  the  West,  and  to  hoist  the 
British  flag  in  a  score  of  lonely  spots 
where  the  lilies  of  France  had  floated 
since  the  first  white  men  broke  upon 
their  solitude. 

CONCLUSION 

SINCE  brevity  is  the  plea  upon  which 
this  narrative  chiefly  relies  for  its 
justification,  I  shall  make  no  apology 


THE  FIGHT  FOR  NORTH  AMERICA 


259 


for  having  kept  almost  wholly  aloof 
from  the  contemporary  events  in 
Europe  during  the  Seven  Years'  War. 
For  the  same  reason,  I  had  fully  in- 
tended to  let  the  surrender  of  Vau- 
dreuil  and  Levis  at  Montreal  be  the 
final  word  of  this  volume,  and  to 
resist  all  temptation  to  touch  upon 
the  ofreat  questions  that  the  war  gave 
rise  to. 

Now,  however,  that  I  have  come  to 
the  end  of  my  allotted  tether,  1  feel 
that  the  word  finisy  written  where  I 
had  intended  to  write  it,  would  lay  me 
open  to  a  charge  of  somewhat  inar- 
tistic abruptness,  both  in  a  literary 
and  historical  sense,  and  that  a  story 
so  suddenly  closed  would  exhibit  a 
lack  of  finish  and  completeness  that 
three  or  four  pages  more  would  go 
far,  I  trust,  to  rectify. 

Now  Vaudreuil  signed  those  ever 
memorable  articles  of  capitulation  on 
September  9th,  1760,  within  a  few 
days  of  the  first  anniversary  of  Wolfe's 
death,  and  in  due  course,  in  accord- 
ance with  the  terms  of  the  document, 
the  remains  of  the  French  army,  the 
entire  body  of  officials,  and  a  certain 
number  of  the  leading  gentry,  by  their 
own  wish,  were  carried  to  France  in 
British  ships. 

Pending  the  peace  a  military  gov- 
ernment was  set  up  in  the  Colony, 
which  was  divided  for  this  purpose 
into  three  districts — Quebec,  Three 
Rivers,  and  Montreal — respectively 
assigned  to  Murray,  Burton  and 
Gage.  The  precise  forms  of  this  gov- 
ernment do  not  concern  us.  It  will  be 
enough  to  say  that  it  was  conducted 
with  the  utmost  possible  consideration 
for  the  people,  for  their  religion,  their 
language,  and  their  laws.  One  must 
not  undervalue  the  strength  of  racial 
sentiment,  but,  with  that  exception, 
the  people  found  themselves  in  every 
respect  better  off  than  they  had  ever 
before  been,  and  did  not  hesitate  to 
proclaim  the  fact  in  loud  and  grateful 
tones.  If  the  ignorant  mobs  who,  in 
various  parts  of  Europe  and  America, 
screech  their  pitiable  stuff  about  Brit- 
ish tyranny,  and  the  more  enlightened 
few,    who,   for    motives    base  and    of 


deliberation,  thus  bear  false  witness 
against  their  neighbour,  desired  light 
or  truth,  which  is  not  in  the  least 
likely,  the  epoch  in  question  would  be 
an  admirable  point  for  them  to  com- 
mence their  investigations. 

It  has  been  well  said  by  historians, 
neither  English  nor  French,  that, 
throughout  the  whole  hundred  and 
fifty  years  of  French  rule  in  Canada, 
there  is  no  evidence  that  the  well- 
being,  the  happiness  or  the  comfort  of 
the  people  was  ever  for  a  single 
moment  taken  into  consideration. 
They  had  been,  in  fact,  slaves — slaves 
to  the  corv^es  and  unpaid  military 
service — debarred  from  education  and 
crammed  with  gross  fictions  and 
superstitions  as  an  aid  to  their  docility 
and  their  value  as  food  for  powder.  It 
is  no  wonder  that  they  were  as  grati- 
fied as  they  were  astonished  when  they 
found  the  Englishmen  of  reality  bore 
no  resemblance  whatever  to  the  Eng- 
lishman of  priestly  fiction.  The  com- 
mon people  were,  to  their  surprise, 
officially  informed  of  all  public  events, 
and  the  gentry  class,  who  had  hitherto 
had  no  share  whatever  in  the  govern- 
ment, were  enrolled  in  various  capac- 
ities as  the  custodians  of  law  and 
order.  When  King  George  died,  a  few 
weeks  only  after  the  surrender  of  the 
Colony,  the  people  of  Montreal  went 
of  their  own  accord  into  mourning, 
and  presented  an  address,  declaring 
he  had  treated  them  as  a  father  would 
treat  his  own  children  rather  than  as 
a  conquered  people.  And  all  this  was 
under  military  government,  for  two 
years  yet  remained  before  the  peace 
and  the  Treaty  of  Paris,  which  was  to 
formally  annex  Canada  to  the  British 
crown;  when,  as  everyone  knows,  the 
same  policy  was  continued  under  a 
civil  administration. 

For  more  than  twenty  years  there 
were  practically  no  English-speaking 
settlers  in  Canada,  and  but  a  few 
thousand  in  Nova  Scotia  and  the 
adjoining  coasts.  It  was  not  till  the 
close  of  the  War  of  Independence  that 
the  stream  of  American  loyalists  set  in 
for  the  Maritime  Provinces  and  the 
virgin  forests  of  Ontario  and  laid  the 


26o 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


foundations  of  the  Dominion  of  Canada 
as  we  now  know  it. 

In  the  meantime  a  Nemesis  awaited 
the  Canadian  civil  officials  who  had 
so  betrayed  their  trust  and  their  coun- 
try. The  very  seas  rose  up  against 
them  as  they  beat  their  way  home- 
wards through  danger,  misery  and 
tempest;  upon  landing,  ten  of  them, 
headed  by  Vaudreuil,  Bigot  and  Cadet, 
were  at  once  arrested  and  thrown  into 
the  Bastile.  Twenty-one  in  all  were 
put  on  trial,  and  so  severe  were  the 
punishments  in  the  shape  of  fine  and 
banishment  that  most  of  them  only 
survived  as  broken  and  ruined  men. 

Though  North  America  had  peace, 
the  war  dragged  on  in  Europe  and 
elsewhere  for  over  two  years.  In  the 
month  following  the  surrender  of 
Canada  to  Amherst,  King  George,  as 
I  have  mentioned,  died,  thus  clos- 
ing a  long  reign  that  he  had,  at  any 
rate,  done  nothing  to  prevent  being 
for  the  most  part  a  glorious  one,  while 
he  had  proved  himself  to  be  at  least  a 
brave,  an  honest,  and  a  constitutional 
monarch. 

The  pitiable  debiit  of  his  youthful 
grandson  at  this  exalted  period  is  a 
familiar  picture.  That  he  was  an 
ardent  Englishman,  and  meant  well; 
that  he  was  fond  of  agriculture,  and 
above  reproach  in  morals,  may  be  of 
abstract  interest,  but  is  of  slight  im- 
portance in  history  when  weighed 
against  his  pernicious  actions,  and 
more  particularly  when  it  is  remem- 
bered that  his  domestic  virtues  had 
small  effect  on  the  country,  but  were 
rather  objects  of  ridicule.  It  is  the 
failings  of  George  III  that  matter, 
and  constitute  him,  in  the  opinion  of 
many,  the  most  mischievous  monarch 
that  ever  sat  upon  the  throne  of  Eng- 
land. Personally  pure  and  patriotic, 
he  practised  corruption  at  home  and 
courted  disaster  abroad  with  tireless 
industry  in  the  pursuit  of  that  dream 
of  absolutism  which  had  been  so  religi- 
ously installed  into  his  obstinate  nature 
by  a  narrow-minded  mother. 

He  began  almost  at  once  to  show 
his  hand,  and  make  it  evident  that  the 
glory  of  England  was  quite  a  second- 


ary matter  to  the  pursuit  o{  his  mis- 
chievous and  narrow  ideal.  Pitt,  with 
his  proud  spirit  and  imperial  convic- 
tions, was  impossible  in  the  atmos- 
phere that  soon  surrounded  the  new 
king,  and  his  very  eminence  had  gained 
him  powerful  enemies.  Happily  his 
work  was  done,  when,  to  the  discon- 
tent of  the  people,  who  pelted  his 
successor  with  mud  and  stones,  he  was 
forced  to  resign  the  leadership  he  had 
used  with  such  unparalleled  effect. 
But  the  machinery  he  had  set  in  motion 
ran  on  with  the  impetus  he  had  given 
it  till  its  work  was  accomplished  and 
a  glorious  peace  secured. 

Never,  probably,  in  our  political  his- 
tory has  there  been  such  a  drop  as  that 
from  Pitt  to  the  obscure  and  incapable 
coxcomb  who  almost  immediately  suc- 
ceeded him,  pitchforked  by  the  young 
King  into  the  highest  office  of  state. 
Even  Newcastle,  who  trimmed  again  to 
get  office,  lent  moral  weight  to  Bute. 
But  of  what  object  to  criticise  the  min- 
isters of  a  king  whose  settled  policy  it 
was  to  retain  such  men,  and  through 
their  means  to  suborn  and  degrade 
Parliament! 

Frederick  of  Prussia,  who,  with 
Pitt's  help  and  the  indomitable  cour- 
age of  himself  and  his  soldiers,  was 
still  holding  his  own  against  a  legion 
of  foes,  may  well  have  despaired  at 
the  fall  of  his  great  ally,  and  the  advent 
of  ministers  who  had  shown  him  of 
late  but  little  sympathy.  The  timely 
withdrawal  of  Russia,  and  the  increas- 
ing difficulties  of  France,  however, 
enabled  him  to  hold  out  till  the  peace, 
preserve  his  dominion  inviolate,  and 
hand  down  a  priceless  legacy  of  glory 
to  the  great  empire,  whose  founda- 
tions he  had  laid. 

The  spirit  of  Pitt  lived  on  in  his 
soldiers  and  sailors,  and  the  French 
were  beaten  at  every  point  and  in 
every  hemisphere,  by  land  and  sea. 
Spain  was  induced  to  range  herself 
with  England's  enemies,  and  paid  for 
it  by  the  speedy  loss  of  Manila,  the 
Philippines,  and  Havannah;  the  latter 
stormed  in  the  teeth  of  infinite  difficul- 
ties and  with  great  loss  of  life.  All 
nations,  except  perhaps   the   English, 


THE  FIGHT  FOR  NORTH  AMERICA 


261 


were  anxious  for  peace,  and  the  King 
of  England,  for  reasons  of  his  own, 
was  of  the  same  mind.  So  the  Seven 
Years'  War  was  brought  to  an  end  in 
the  autumn  of  1762,  and  the  Treaty  of 
Paris  was  signed  early  in  the  follow- 
ing year.*  Never  before  or  since  has 
the  glory  of  England  been  written  so 
large  upon  any  document  of  the  kind. 
Pitt  and  a  majority  of  the  nation, 
however,  thought  it  was  not  glorious 
enough,  and  with  some  reason  from 
the  standpoint  of  their  day.  It  was 
France  who  had  thrown  herself  across 
the  path  of  British  Colonial  expansion, 
had  provoked  the  struggle,  and  incited 
her  Indian  allies  to  the  commission  of 
continuous  and  fiendish  barbarities  on 
the  English  settlements.  This  rankled 
deeply  in  men's  minds,  and  the  more 
so  as  England  was  in  a  position  to 
dictate  terms  and  still  full  of  fight, 
while  France,  crippled,  demoralised, 
and  financially  ruined,  was  practically 
powerless  outside  her  own  borders. 
It  was  the  French,  too,  who  had 
essayed  to  drive  the  British  out  of 
India,  with  what  result  needs  no  tell- 
ing. The  sentiment  embodied  in  the 
brief  phrase,  never  again,  current  at 
this  moment  in  another  hemisphere, 
was  the  watchword  of  a  majority  who 
had  already  been  tricked  by  the  young 
King  out  of  their  power,  and  Pitt  was, 
of  course,  their  spokesman. 

Great  as  were  the  concessions  to 
Britain  in  Asia  and  America,  they  did 
not  seem  to  Pitt  the  full  measure  of 
her  supreme  position  and  of  the  blood 
and  treasure  she  had  lavished  to  attain 
it.  Above  all,  the  gift  of  those  two 
rocky  islands  off  Newfoundland  to 
France,  which  have  been  ever  since 
such  a  fruitful  cause  of  friction  and 
danger,  stirred  Pitt's  prophetic  mind 
to  wrath.  Swathed  in  flannels  he  was 
carried   into   the  House,  and    there  in 

♦Havannah  was  exchang^ed  with  Spain  for 
Florida.  New  Orleans  alone  was  lefl  to 
France  on  the  North  American  mainland, 
and  as  Louisiana  was  afterwards  made  over 
to  the  United  States,  the  dismantling'  of  the 
fortifications  of  Dunkirk  under  Engflish  en- 
gineers is  of  all  the  clauses  of  this  treaty,  per- 
haps, the  most  significant  of  the  position  of 
England  at  the  moment. 


eloquent  and  impassioned  tones,  while 
denouncing  the  treaty,  predicted  to  an 
unbelieving  and  largely  bribed  audi- 
ence those  future  troubles  with  which 
we  are  only  too  familiar.  But  he 
spoke  to  deaf  ears;  the  terms  of  the 
treaty  were  approved,  and  if  the  King 
bribed  the  House  of  Commons,  it  is 
almost  equally  certain  that  France 
bribed  Bute  with  a  most  princely  fee 
for  his  services  on  her  behalf. 

The  question  of  Canada  stood  on  a 
different  basis.  Many  were  against  re- 
taining it  on  grounds  purely  patriotic, 
and  they  will  be  obvious  at  once.  The 
exaltation  of  the  hour,  and  a  very 
natural  ignorance  of  colonial  feeling, 
alone  prevented  those  who  opposed 
retention  from  being  more  numerous. 
Many  of  England's  enemies  chuckled 
and  have  left  written  testimonies  to 
their  foresight.  Many  of  England's 
friends,  and  some  of  her  own  people 
shook  their  heads.  There  was  no  mawk- 
ish sentiment  about  this:  it  was  a 
purely  practical  question.  There  are, 
no  doubt,  even  yet,  numbers  of  people 
in  England  who,  so  far  as  they  think 
about  the  subject  at  all,  believe 
that  the  infatuation  of  George  III 
alone  drove  into  rebellion  a  people 
hitherto  wholly  contented  with  their 
lot  and  pathetically  devoted  to  the 
Crown  and  the  British  connection. 
Among  those  who  knew  the  American 
Colonies  at  that  time  there  was  much 
difference  of  opinion  as  to  their  drift 
in  certain  eventualities,  which  is  in 
itself  significant  enough.  While  the 
French  were  in  Canada  such  specula- 
tions had  no  practical  interest,  for  it 
must  be  remembered  that  the  expul- 
sion of  the  French  was  an  eventuality 
not  taken  into  consideration  till  Pitt's 
time.  It  was  impossible  that  there 
should  not  have  been  discontent  at  the 
trade  restrictions  under  which  the  col- 
onists lay.  Such  discontent  may  have 
been  illogical,  and  even  ungrateful,  as 
this  was  the  price  paid  for  the  protec- 
tion of  England  against  dangers  which 
were  then  very  real,  but  that  it  existed 
is  beyond  dispute,  though  little  enough 
of  it,  doubtless,  was  heard  amid  the 
triumphs  of  this    particular   moment. 


262 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


It  had  been  said  by  a  great  many 
people  hitherto  that  nothing  but  fear  of 
the  French  kept  the  Colonies  so  docile. 
The  notion  that  they  would  seek  in- 
dependence was  scouted,  it  is  true,  by 
some  of  their  own  foremost  men, 
Franklin  among  them.  But  then  it  is 
significant  that  the  reason  usually 
assigned  for  this  is  their  incapacity  for 
combination,  not  their  unconquerable 
aflfection  for  the  mother  country.  Yet, 
the    greatest    pessimist    of    that    day 


would  hardly  have  hazarded  the  opin- 
ion that  -this  vital  question  would  be 
put  to  the  test  in  less  than  two 
decades,  and  upon  provocation  that  to 
many  of  their  generation  would  have 
seemed  mild  indeed.  As  a  great  Eng- 
lish historian  has  truly  said,  and  a 
scarcely  less  distinguished  American 
has  truly  echoed,  "  the  death  of  Wolfe 
upon  the  Plains  of  Abraham  meant  not 
only  the  conquest  of  Canada  but  the 
birth  of  the  United  States." 


THE    END 


NUMBER  851 

By  N.  de  BERT  RAND  LUGRIN 


T  is  not  always  winter  in  the 
Yukon.  For  three  months 
out  of  the  year  the  sun 
shines  brightly,  day  and 
night  alike,  all  over  the 
hills  and  valleys.  After  that  for  two 
months  more  there  is  pleasant  autumn 
weather,  and  then  the  old  sun  begins 
to  grow  less  friendly,  showing  his  face 
for  fewer  hours  above  the  mountains 
every  day,  and  sinking  in  the  early 
afternoon,  until  by  and  by  it  is  always 
dark  save  for  the  wonderful  aurora 
that  shakes  her  gleaming  fringe  of 
rainbow  hair  across  the  midnight  sky, 
sending  out  sharp  shafts  of  dazzling 
.light,  like  shining  swords,  that  encircle 
the  arch  of  the  heavens  and  seems  to 
guard  the  great,  white,  sleeping  North. 
The  Spring  is  a  maiden,  the  Yukon 
Indians  tell  us,  a  beautiful,  shiny- 
eyed,  flower-decked  maiden,  and  the 
great  spirit  of  winter  cannot  withstand 
the  sweetness  and  warmth  of  her 
smiles.  So  he  gives  her  the  key  to 
the  rivers  and  lakes  and  creeks,  and 
she  flies  over  the  land  and  the  water, 
and  all  the  earth  wakens  to  life.  Down 
tumble  the  mad  cataracts  into  the  sea, 
the  ice  breaks  on  the  lakes  and  the 
blue  waters  smile  back  to  the  sky. 
The  rivers  sing  a  springtime  song,  the 
pink  clover  covers  all  the  hillsides,  and 


the  feathery  birch-trees  whisper  in  the 
valleys. 

Three  miles  up  the  Klondike  river 
from  Dawson,  Elise  la  Freniere  had  a 
little  garden  of  her  own.  Sweet  peas 
grew  against  the  cabin,  mauve  and 
pink,  red  and  white.  In  a  round  bed 
at  the  left  purple  pansies  blossomed, 
and  at  the  right  was  a  flaming  crowd 
of  gaudy  dahlias.  Elise  was  very 
proud  of  her  garden.  She  was  a  little 
French  girl;  her  father  had  been  three 
years  on  the  creeks  and  had  made 
"  beaucoup  d'argent."  This  autumn 
he  and  Elise  and  her  mother  were 
going  home  to  France  to  stay.  Most 
of  his  wealth  Mr.  la  Freniere  kept  in 
two  old  canvas  bags  under  the  bed.  It 
would  have  been  much  safer  in  the 
bank  in  Dawson,  but  the  old  man — he 
was  forty  years  older  than  Elise's 
mamma — had  peculiar  ideas  of  his  own, 
and  loved  to  take  his  gold  dust  out 
now  and  then,  lifting  the  shining  stuff 
to  watch  it  trickle  through  his  fingers 
and  see  it  reflect  back  the  light,  bury- 
ing his  hands  in  it,  or  holding  it 
against  his  old  withered  face.  At 
such  times  Elise  was  troubled.  She 
would  go  up  to  her  father  and  im- 
periously close  the  bags.  ' '  Mon  pere," 
she  would  say,  "which  do  you  love 
best,  the  gold  or  my  mother  and  me?" 


NUMBER  Sol 


263 


And  her  father  would  hold  his  little 
girl  close  to  him  for  answer.  A  long, 
long  time  ago  he  had  been  the  master 
of  a  grand  old  chateau  in  France.  He 
was  straight  and  tall  and  young  then, 
and  a  soldier.  But  trouble  had  come 
suddenly,  and  before  he  could  realise 
it  everything  was  gone,  home  and 
wealth  and  friends.  He  had  worked 
hard,  and  it  was  only  now  at  the  close 
of  life  that  fortune  had  smiled  upon 
him.  Elise  could  not  be  expected  to 
understand  what  the  gold  dust  meant 
to  the  old  man.  But  her  mother  knew, 
and  that  was  quite  enough  after  all, 
for  Mr.  la  Freniere  worshipped  his 
little,  soft-eyed,  low-voiced  wife. 

Elise  was  ten,  but  she  was  too  far 
from  Dawson  to  go  to  school,  so  every 
day  she  weeded  in  her  garden,  while 
her  mother  washed  and  sewed  in  the 
cabin,  and  her  father  worked  feverishly 
at  the  sluice  boxes,  down  at  the  creek 
a  mile  away.  Elise  had  no  friends 
among  the  children,  for  their  home  was 
a  mile  from  the  next  cabin.  Some- 
times she  met  boys  and  girls  in  Daw- 
son, where  she  went  every  Saturday  to 
get  provisions  for  the  week,  but  she 
was  a  shy  little  girl  and  her  mother 
and  father  and  the  flowers  quite  satis- 
fied her. 

Some  distance  back  on  the  hill  there 
had  been  a  great  hole  blasted,  and 
every  day  now  since  the  beginning  of 
the  summer  a  convict  had  worked 
there  with  his  pick,  a  Northwest 
Mounted  Policeman  standing  guard 
behind  him,  looking  very  tall  and  pic- 
turesque in  his  khaki  coat  and  brown 
hat  and  his  dark  trousers  with  the 
gold  stripe  down  the  leg.  The  con- 
vict did  not  look  at  all  like  a  picture. 
His  coat  and  trousers  were  brown  on 
the  left  side  and  yellow  on  the  right, 
and  he  had  a  great  number,  "851," 
painted  in  white  letters  on  his  back. 
His  hair  was  shaven  close,  his  face 
was  very  thin  and  white,  and  his  eyes 
were  wistful;  Elise  said  "as  though 
he  did  not  want  to  be  naughty,  but 
could  not  help  it."  There  had  been  a 
great  many  convicts  working  at  odd 
times  on  the  roads  or  on  the  hills  near 
the   cabins,    but  Elise    had    not  taken 


much  interest  in  any  of  the  others. 
For  the  most  part  their  faces  were 
very  hard  and  wicked,  and  the  child 
would  look  very  quickly  away  from 
them  as  they  passed  the  house  and 
gaze  hard  at  the  sweet  faces  of  her 
flowers.  But  it  was  very  different  with 
"851."  In  the  first  place  he  was 
young,  and  in  the  next  place,  the  first 
day  that  he  had  seen  Elise  outside 
among  the  sweet  peas  he  had  hung  his 
head  and  his  pale  face  had  grown  the 
colour  of  the  red  dahlias,  so  that, 
young  as  she  was,  she  had  felt  a  great 
wave  of  pity  sweep  over  her,  and  her 
own  eyes  had  grown  suddenly  wet. 

After  that,  several  times  during 
every  day  she  would  go  out  behind 
the  cabin  and  look  up  the  hill  to  where 
the  convict  and  the  policeman  were. 
Sometimes  she  would  walk  up  the  path 
a  little  way,  apparently  very  busy  ex- 
amining the  clover  or  the  fern,  but  in 
reality  watching  earnestly  the  stooped, 
grotesquely  clothed  figure  of  "851." 
Had  he  any  little  girl,  she  wondered, 
or  was  he  somebody's  son,  somebody 
whose  heart  would  break  if  that  some- 
body could  see  him  now.  Day  by  day 
she  grew  bolder,  until  one  afternoon 
she  went  quite  to  the  end  of  the  path 
and  began  to  gather  some  ferns  a  few 
yards  from  where  the  policeman  was 
standing.  The  latter  moved  near  her. 
He  was  a  very  big  man,  with  nice  blue 
eyes,  and  when  he  smiled  at  her  she  saw 
his  teeth  were  as  white  as  her  kitten's. 

"Aren't  you  afraid  to  come  so  near 
a  wicked  man  like  that?"  he  asked  in 
a  low  voice,  indicating  the  convict. 

Elise  looked  at  him  gravely.  Her 
pale  little  face  did  not  flush. 

"Je  n'ai  pas  peur,"  she  said  quietly, 
which  meant  that  she  was  not  at  all 
afraid.  The  policeman  smiled.  He 
spoke  to  her  in  her  own  language,  and 
asked  her  a  great  many  questions,  all 
of  which  Elise  answered  readily, 
moving  all  the  time  a  little  nearer  the 
bent  form  of  the  convict.  At  last, 
catching  the  latter's  glance,  she  smiled, 
and  the  man's  face  flushed  as  it  had 
that  first  day,  and  he  looked  quite 
piteously  from  the  policeman  to  the 
little  girl  and  back  again. 


264 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


'*  It  is  very  sad,  n'est-ce  pas?"  Elise 
whispered  to  the  policeman  as  she 
went  away,  and  the  big  man,  making 
quite  sure  the  convict  was  not  looking, 
nodded  gravely. 

The  next  day  Elise  picked  two 
bunches  of  flowers,  one  of  sweet  peas 
and  one  of  pansies.  It  was  very  hot, 
and  her  pale  little  face  was  damp  with 
perspiration  when  at  last  she  reached 
the  great  hole  where  the  two  men 
were.  She  held  her  flowers  in  either 
hand  and  made  no  pretence  of  picking 
ferns  or  clover,  but  went  straight  over 
to  the  policeman,  who  welcomed  her 
smilingly. 

"  I  have  brought  you  some  flowers," 
she  said  softly,  handing  him  the  sweet 
peas.  "The  pansies  are  for  him,"  she 
added,  still  more  softly. 
,jj"  Give  them  to  him  yourself,  petite," 
the  big  man  told  her,  and  she  went 
quickly  towards  the  convict  and  spoke 
timidly. 

"Monsieur!"  "851"  stood  up 
quickly,  nervously.  He  looked  at  the 
child,  and  at  the  flowers  in  the  tiny 
hand,  his  young  face  very  white  and 
his  eyes  more  wistful  than  ever. 

**I  have  brought  you  some  pansies," 
she  said  gently  in  English.  **  Mother 
calls  them  '  heart's  ease,' "  and  she 
laid  them  in  his  grimy  palm. 

The  convict  could  not  speak.  He 
tried  to  thank  her,  but  his  lips  only 
worked  tremulously,  and  he  turned 
quickly  away. 

"  Was  he  very  wicked?"  Elise  asked 
the  policeman  as  she  was  going.  He 
looked  at  her  gravely. 

"  He  broke  the  law,"  he  replied,  and 
she  nodded  and  went  down  the  hill, 
wondering  why  people  made  laws  that 
other  people  had  to  break. 

The  summer  wore  away,  and  every 
fine  day  except  Saturday  and  Sunday 
Elisewent  up  to  visit  with  the  policeman 
and  "851."  She  never  spoke  to  the 
convict  except  to  say  *'  How  do  you 
do?"  and  "  Good-bye,"  but  she  talked 
a  great  deal  to  the  policeman,  who 
told  her  a  little  about  the  other  man, 
speaking  in  French,  which  the  latter 
did  not  understand.  "851  "  was  not 
married,  but  he  had  a  mother  and  a 


father  on  the  "  Outside,"  and  a  little 
sister  like  Elise.  The  child  told  him 
all  her  own  history  in  return,  about 
going  home  to  France  in  October  and 
about  the  two  old  bags  full  of  nuggets 
under  the  bed.  It  was  very  odd,  but 
the  two  afternoons  when  Elise  was 
giving  the  policeman  her  most  secret 
confidences,  an  ugly,  black-browed, 
stooped  little  man  was  hiding  in  the 
brush  behind  them  listening  to  every 
word,  quite  unnoticed  by  any  of  the 
three. 

And  now  it  was  late  September. 
Last  Saturday  in  Dawson  a  man  had 
been  walking  the  street  all  day,  shout- 
ing through  a  great  megaphone: 

"  The  S.S.  Dolphin,  the  fastest  and 
most  commodious  boat  on  the  Yukon, 
leaves  on  Wednesday  for  the  outside. 
Only  two  more  trips  before  navigation 
closes.  Secure  your  passage  now." 
And  Mr.  la  Freniere  had  bought  the 
tickets  then  and  there,  and  Elise  and  her 
mother  had  been  very  busy  ever  since 
packing  and  cleaning  out  the  cabin. 

Late  on  Monday  afternoon  Elise 
went  up  the  hill  to  say  "  good-bye  "  to 
her  two  friends.  She  had  gathered 
two  little  nosegays  of  bachelor  buttons, 
all  the  flowers  left  in  her  garden,  and 
though  she  was  very  happy  to  be  going 
home,  her  little  heart  was  heavy  just 
now  at  the  thought  of  leaving  the 
policeman  and  the  convict,  both  of 
whom  she  had  grown  to  love  with  all 
the  warmth  of  her  tender  nature. 

' '  If  only  you  could  set  him  free  before 
I  go!"  she  said  wistfully  to  the  police- 
man, handing  him  the  bachelor  buttons; 
"I  know  he  can't  be  any  sorrier  if  you 
keep  him  in  prison  for  a  hundred  years." 

"  His  time  is  up  in  six  months 
more,"  said  the  policeman  kindly. 

Thelittle  girl  shook  her  head.  "Ah, 
but,  you  see,  that  will  be  after  Christ- 
mas, and  he  can't  be  home  with  his 
mamma  and  papa  just  when  they  want 
him  most." 

She  sighed  very  deeply.  She  had 
never  been  able  to  make  the  policeman 
express  any  opinion  as  to  the  justice 
or  injustice  of  things,  though  she  had 
tried  many  times.  She  made  one 
more  attempt. 


NUMBER  Sol 


26: 


*'  Don't  you  think  the  Commissioner 
might  pardon  him  if  you  asked  him? 
Do  you  really  believe  he  is  such  a  bad 
man?" 

'*  He  broke  the  law,"  the  policeman 
replied  very  gravely. 

Again  the  child  sighed.  Then  she 
went  up  to  the  convict, 

"I  have  come  to  say  *good-bye,"'  she 
said  gently,  "and  to  give  you  these," 
tendering  the  flowers,  "and  this," 
handing  him  a  beautiful  littleTestament 
with  a  silver  clasp. 

The  convict  took  the  gifts  half 
stupidly,  staring  at  her. 

"To  say  'good-bye,'"  he  repeated. 

"We  are  going  on  Wednesday," 
she  told  him,  "all  the  way  home  to 
France  ;"  then  she  drew  very  close  to 
him.  "  I  wish  you  were  going  too — 
home  to  your  mamma  and  your  little 
sister." 

"851"  coughed  sharply.  His  mouth 
twitched.  He  thrust  the  flowers  and 
the  Testament  into  his  coat. 

"  I  will  never  forget  you,"  said  Elise. 
"  I  know  you  are  sorry,  and  that  you 
will  never  be  naughty  again." 

"God  bless  you!"  said  the  convict 
brokenly.  And  as  the  child  held  out 
her  hand,  he  looked  first  at  the  broad 
back  of  the  policeman  and  then,  taking 
the  little  fingers  in  his,  he  bent  his 
shaven  head  and  kissed  them,  while 
Elise  felt  a  tear  fall  from  his  eyes. 

She  shook  hands  gravely  with  the 
policeman  after  that,  and  went  down 
the  hill  without  a  backward  glance. 

The  next  day  Mr.  la  Freniere  went 
early  to  town.  He  was  to  come  back 
for  Elise  and  her  mother  about  four 
o'clock,  with  a  waggon  to  carry  their 
luggage.  They  would  have  dinner  in 
Dawson,  and  unusual  excitement,  and 
would  leave  at  eight  o'clock  for  the 
outside  and  home. 

Everything  in  the  little  cabin  was 
packed — the  bags  of  gold-dust  under- 
neath the  other  bundles.  Elise  was 
dressed  in  a  neat  little  frock  of  blue, 
and  her  fur  coat  and  gloves  and  hat 
were  on  the  table. 

"  Petite,"  said  her  mother,  as  she 
lit  the  lamp,  for  it  was  twilight  now  at 
half-past  three,   "Petite,   I  am  going 


to  say  good-bye  to  Mrs.  Richards,  and 
I  shall  call  papa  to  pick  me  up  as  he 
passes  her  house.  Do  not  leave  the 
cabin,  dear." 

"  No,  mamma,"  said  Elise,  and  she 
watched  her  mother  up  the  long,  dusky 
road,  until  the  sound  of  her  footsteps 
mingled  with  the  noise  of  the  rushing 
Klondyke  river,  and  then  the  little  girl 
went  back  into  the  house  and  closed 
the  door. 

She  was  Very  happy  and  excited, 
until,  all  of  a  sudden,  she  thought 
about  her  friends  up  on  the  hill,  and 
she  went  out  the  back  door  of  the 
cabin  and  looked  above.  Yes,  she 
could  see  them  both — the  convict  work- 
ing, and  the  policeman  pacing  slowly 
up  and  down.  It  would  be  the  same 
for  them  day  after  day  until  the  cold 
became  too  intense;  while  she  was 
going  away  to  warmth  and  comfort 
and  happiness.  Her  father  had  told 
her  that  the  convict's  punishment  was 
the  result  of  breaking  a  law  to  help 
a  friend,  and  Elise  could  not  justify 
things,  exactly,  though  Mr.  la  Fren- 
iere had  said  it  was  quite  right,  and 
that  the  authorities  could  not  be  too 
severe  in  a  mining  camp  like  Dawson. 
She  went  back  slowly  into  the  cabin, 
and  then,  as  she  closed  the  door, 
stood  quite  still  with  astonishment. 
A  stooped,  black-browed,  ugly  little 
man  was  over  near  the  other  door, 
pulling  and  dragging  at  the  bags  and 
bundles,  evidently  in  a  great  hurry  and 
very  nervous  and  excited.  He  sprang 
upright,  as  he  heard  the  little  girl,  but 
a  look  of  relief  came  across  his  face  as 
he  saw  her. 

"  V'ou  are  just  the  person  I  wanted," 
he  told  her,  speaking  very  rapidly  in 
French;  "your  father  sent  me  to  get 
the  bags  of  gold-dust.  He  wants  me 
to  take  them  in  to  Dawson  for  him." 

For  just  a  second  the  little  girl  be- 
lieved him.  But  looking  hard  at  the 
ugly  face,  and  seeing  the  shining  barrel 
of  a  revolver  in  his  pocket,  she  hesi- 
tated before  answering  him. 

"  He  told  me  where  to  find  it,"  the 
man  went  on,  "but  I  think  you  will 
have  to  help  me.  Be  quick  about  it, 
too,  won't  you?     The  bank  is  staying 


266 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


open  on  purpose  to  exchange  the  dust 
before  your  father  goes  away." 

"That  is  very  funny,"  Elise  replied; 
'•father  did  not  say  anything  about  it 
to  mother  or  me." 

"  Well,  you  know  what  a  man  your 
papa  is  for  changing  his  mind,"  the 
ugly  man  said,  beginning  to  uncord  a 
big  box  in  a  feverish  hurry. 

Now,  Elise  knew  nothing  of  the  sort, 
and  she  looked  at  the  intruder  gravely, 
and  said : 

"You  are  not  telling  the  truth;  I 
think  you  want  to  take  the  gold-dust 
for  yourself. 

The  man  looked  at  her  and  laughed. 

"You  are  a  bright  little  girl,"  he 
said,  quietly,  and  went  on  with  his 
search. 

And  now  Elise  was  quite  sure,  for 
she  suddenly  remembered  how  a  man 
answering  this  ugly  little  intruder's 
description  had  broken  into  the  cold- 
storage  warehouses  three  years  ago 
and  robbed  the  safe.  He  was  arrested, 
and  served  his  sentence,  and  he  had 
been  at  liberty  now  for  some  months. 
She  went  to  the  back  door  very 
suddenly,  and  before  he  could  prevent 
her  she  had  screamed  at  the  top  of  her 
youthful  lungs — 

"Help!  help!— '851'— help!  help!" 
for  she  did  not  know  the  policeman's 
name,  but  she  remembered  the  con- 
vict's number. 

She  was  pulled  inside  and  the  door 
banged  to,  but  not  before  she  had 
caught  a  glimpse  of  two  forms  running 
down  the  hill — the  convict  ahead,  the 
policeman  in  the  rear. 

"You're  a  silly  little  girl,"  the  ugly 
man  said,  but  he  was  still  smiling. 
"  Don't  you  know  the  policeman  has 
gone  to  the  barracks?"  Then  he  went 
to  the  other  side  of  the  room  and  Elise 
saw  that  he  had  found  one  of  the  bags. 
He  lifted  it  with  some  effort,  for  it  was 
very  heavy.  "  I  won't  bother  about 
the  other  one  just  now,"  he  said  to  the 
child,  "and  the  next  time  you  confide 
in  people  on  the  open  hill-side,  and 
think  you  are  very  safe  because  you 
speak  French,  remember  me,  little 
girl,  remember  me."  He  was  walking 
to  the  door  with  a  great  show  of  good 


humour,  when  it  very  suddenly  opened 
and  two  men  entered,  the  first  in  a 
grotesque  suit  of  yellow  and  brown, 
the  second  in  a  khaki  coat,  with  gold 
stripes  down  the  legs  of  his  trousers. 
The  nice  eyes  of  the  policeman  were 
hard  and  cold  as  ice;  he  spoke  tersely, 
sharply: 

"  Put  down  that  bag,  le  Blanc,"  and 
his  hand  sought  his  hip  pocket,  while 
his  gaze  never  moved  from  the  French- 
man's sly  face.  But  the  little  black- 
browed  man  was  quick  as  a  snake. 
There  was  a  flash  and  a  report,  and 
the  big  policeman  fell  back  heavily. 

The  Frenchman  laughed — 

"Luck  is  ours,  Harris,"  he  said  in 
English.  "  Fancy  meeting  you  under 
such  happy  auspices.  But  we  must 
hurry.  Get  the  Johnny's  gun,  will 
you?  It's  share  and  share  alike  with 
you  and  me." 

Elise's  little  heart  almost  stopped 
beating,  for  the  convict  was  stooping 
over  the  unconscious  form  on  the  floor. 
Would  he  do  as  the  wicked  man  told 
him?  Had  she  been  mistaken  in  her 
friend  all  the  time,  and  was  "  851  "  no 
better  than  the  rest  of  the  numbered 
men  who  lived  in  the  low,  grey  stone 
houses  with  the  high,  grated  windows? 
She  watched  him,  her  eyes  wide  with 
fear  and  sorrow.  But  the  convict 
stood  up,  the  policeman's  gun  in  his 
hand,  and  he  was  straighter  and  taller 
than  she  had  ever  seen  him.  He  gave 
her  a  quick  little  smiling  glance,  and 
then  walked  cautiously  up  to  the  other 
man. 

"  It's  a  heavy  load,  le  Blanc,"  he 
said,  but  I  think  it  can  be  managed, 
eh?" 

In  a  second  he  had  knocked  the  re- 
volver from  the  unsuspecting  le  Blanc's 
hand  and  kicked  it  across  the  room; 
then,  holding  his  own  revolver  at  his 
side,  he  spoke  quickly  and  softly: 

"  Put  down  that  bag,  please!" 

The  Frenchman's  face  turned  very 
white.  He  muttered  something  about 
"  honour  among  thieves,"  and  turned 
to  go  out  of  the  back  door.  But  again 
he  had  made  a  mistake  in  thinking 
that  the  other  man  wanted  all  the  gold 
for    himself.      How    could    he  under- 


NUMBER  Sol 


267 


stand?  But  Elise  did,  and  her  little 
face  grew  hot  and  her  heart  beat  fast. 

"  Stop  where  you  are,"  sharply  the 
convict's  voice  rang  out,  "turn  to  the 
right,  walk  to  the  other  door. "  The 
Frenchman  tried  to  speak,  but  the 
convict  held  the  revolver  threateningly. 

As  they  reached  the  policeman's 
side,  the  latter  raised  himself  weakly. 
In  a  moment  he  saw  and  realised 
everything.  He  had  always  secretly 
believed  in  "851."  With  a  great  deal 
of  pain,  and  very  slowly,  he  pulled  a 
pair  of  handcuffs  from  his  breast. 

"  Put  them  on,  le  Blanc,"  he  said 
authoritatively,  and  under  the  con- 
vict's revolver  the  Frenchman  obeyed. 

"Take  him  to  the  Sergeant,"  the 
policeman  went  on  feebly,  "and  report 
in  my  name.' 

"  Yes,  sir,"  "851"  replied  respect- 
fully, and  the  two  men  moved  out  into 
the  twilight. 

Elise  sprang  to  the  door  and  watched 
them,  the  stooped  dark  figure  in  front, 
the  straight  form  of  the  convict  behind, 
his  number  "  851  "  white  and  clear  in 
the  dusky  shadows.  Then  she  returned 
to  the  policeman,  kneeling  beside  him. 

"Are  you  much  hurt?"  she  asked 
him  gravely,  anxiously. 

"No,"  he  returned  smiling,  "and 
help  will  be  here  soon."  He  pressed 
the  hand  that  touched  his  own.  "Our 
friend  has  proved  himself,"  he  began, 
"  has  proved  himself — "  and  then  he 
fainted  quite  away. 

It  was  a  week  later,  and  down  at 
the  wharf  a  little  steamer  was  lying  all 


brilliantly  alight,  and  puffing  and 
blowing,  impatient  to  be  off.  There 
was  ice  in  the  river  close  to  the  shore, 
and  the  snow  was  deep  on  the  streets 
of  Dawson.  Up  on  the  deck,  wrapt 
in  her  fur  coat,  Elise  was  standing,  her 
little  face  wreathed  in  smiles,  as  a  tall 
policeman,  limping  a  little,  came 
toward  her  with  outstretched  hand. 

"  I  have  come  to  say  good-bye,"  he 
told  her,  a  smile  in  his  nice  blue  eyes, 
but  looking  a  little  sorry  around  his 
mouth,  for  the  child  had  endeared  her- 
self to  him  in  the  long  months  of  their 
comradeship.  "And  I  have  brought 
you  a  message  from  our  friend." 

Elise's  eyes  were  shining.  She  put 
both  her  little  hands  in  his. 

"  Is  it  true  that  the  Commissioner 
gives  him  his  discharge?"  she  asked 
eagerly. 

"Quite  true,"  the  policeman  replied. 
"  He  is  leaving  us  to-morrow,  and 
next  week  he  is  going  home.  He  says 
you  are  the  best  friend  he  ever  had, 
and  he  will  never  forget  you." 

The  whistle  of  the  steamer  blew 
shrilly.  Last  good-byes  were  said, 
and  Elise's  eyes  were  dim  as  she  kissed 
the  big  poliqeman  "  au  revoir."  .-Xnd 
while  the  little  boat  fought  against  the 
heavy  current,  and  the  clouds  of  golden 
sparks  flew  from  the  smoke-stack  like 
millions  of  tiny  dancing  fairies,  she 
watched  with  wistful  eyes  as  one  by 
one  the  twinkling  lights  of  Dawson 
were  lost  in  the  distance,  and  the  un- 
broken shadows  of  night  settled  over 
the  hurrying,  singing  river. 


AN  UNREQUITED  VIGIL 

A  STORY  OF  OLD  PORT  ROYAL 
By   WILLIAM  HOLLO  WAY 


HE  February  dusk  fell  over 
famine-stricken  Port  Royal 
with  a  certain  sombre 
menace.  That  morning, 
Father  Biard,  standing  at 
the  altar-steps  of  the  simple  chapel, 
had  divided  the  last  food  among  the 
famishing  garrison,  and  commended 
them  to  their  Maker;  and  now,  as  the 
grim  bastion  and  snow-clad  houses, 
crouched  about  the  tattered  flag  of 
France,  grew  indistinct  against  the 
darkening  sky,  there  was  no  one  in 
the  tiny  colony  but  knew  its  time  was 
come. 

It  was  five  by  the  clock,  and  the 
great  hall  of  the  seigneurie,  which 
looked  through  latticed  windows  upon 
the  fortress  square,  was  already 
a  prey  to  shadows.  The  candles  had 
not  yet  been  lit,  and  the  delicate  carv- 
ings on  the  oaken  mantel  were  nebu- 
lous in  the  dim  light  of  the  smoulder- 
ing fire;  the  faces  of  the  men  lounging 
about  the  room — members  of  the 
Order  of  the  Good  Time,  the  club 
Champlain  had  founded  a  few  years 
before — showed  like  blurs  of  shapeless 
white  against  the  dark  background  of 
the  wainscoted  walls.  From  the  tall 
brass  candlesticks  on  the  long  oaken 
table  faint  reflections  from  the  embers 
filtered  palely  through  the  gloom. 

As  the  dusk  grew  deeper,  Imbert, 
the  old  soldier  of  fortune,  best  swords- 
man in  all  France,  who  sat  near  the 
head  of  the  table,  roused  himself  with 
a  jerk  and  clatter  of  his  scabbard  on 
the  polished  floor.  He  was  a  short, 
squat  figure  of  a  man,  with  enormous 
shoulders,  half-hidden  in  the  shadows. 
"  If  I  had  died  twenty  odd  years  ago  at 
Ivry,"  he  said  regretfully,  "with 
trumpets  blowing,  and  Henry  of 
Navarre  himself  looking  on — peste! 
it  would  have  been  worth  while." 

The  members  of  the  Order  of  the 
Good  Time,  now  gathering  for  their 

268 


last  meeting,  drew  their  ruffles  closer 
over  their  thin  white  hands,  shivered 
and  were  silent.  Imbert  settled  fro wn- 
ingly  into  his  high-backed  chair. 
"But  to  die  in  this  wilderness  called 
Acadie,"  he  went  on  with  savage  dis- 
dain; "  to  starve  to  death  like  a  rat  in 
a  trap — what  end  is  that  for  a  man 
who  wears  a  sword?" 

There  was  an  impatient  stir  in  the 
rear  of  the  hall,  and  Biencourt,  the 
young  seigneur  of  Port  Royal,  tall  and 
smooth  of  face,  came  forward  to  the 
fire.  He  had  been  sitting,  biting  his 
nails  at  fate,  in  the  velvet-covered 
chair  of  state,  whence  the  rulers  of 
Port  Royal  were  wont  to  judge  their 
vassals.  "  To  die  like  this — watching 
the  end  come  slowly  and  mocking  it 
all  the  while — is  worth  twenty  deaths 
at  Ivry,"  he  declared  with  a  quick 
wave  of  his  hand;  and  as  he  smoked 
he  kicked  the  smouldering  logs  into  a 
sudden  flame. 

In  the  bright  upspringing  the  Order 
of  the  Good  Time  presented  a  sorry 
spectacle.  Gay  doublets  flapped  over 
shrunken  shoulders;  silken  hose  hung 
loosely  upon  wasted  limbs;  the  dozen 
faces  were  like  death-masks  in  the 
flaring  light.  From  Imbert  to  the 
youngest  gallant  fresh  from  Paris  and 
the  Court,  all  bore  traces  of  the  famine. 
Their  cheeks  were  sunken,  deep  circles 
showed  beneath  their  eyes,  the  hands 
that  twitched  nervously  at  their  long 
lace  ruffles  were  bloodless  and  fleshless 
as  the  hands  of  the  dead. 

"A  lot  of  ghosts,"  cried  Imbert  on 
a  sudden,  eyeing  them  as  they  watched 
the  leaping  flames.  "  Alot  of  ghosts," 
he  repeated,  pushing  his  grizzled  black 
hair  back  from  his  scarred  forehead 
with  one  monstrous  hand,  while  with 
the  other  he  rattled  his  useless  sword 
— a  sword  given  him  in  his  wilder  days 
by  the  famous  pirate,  Pierre  Euston. 
"And  this  is  better  than  Ivry,"  he  went 


AN  UNREQUITED   VIGIL 


269 


on  derisively,  "  this  sitting  still  and 
starving  in  a  colony  forgotten  by  God 
and  man?"  He  stamped  furiously  on 
the  floor.  *•  And  a  fete  night  at  Fon- 
tainebleau,  no  doubt?"  he  added  with  a 
savage  grimace. 

Biencourt  slowly  took  up  one  of  the 
quaint  lobster-claw  Indian  pipes  that 
lay  upon  the  mantel.  The  firelight 
played  upon  his  doublet  and  hose  of 
soft  blue  satin,  and  threw  his  high 
cheek-bones  into  bold  relief  against  his 
light  brown  hair.  "A  little  touch  of 
famine  and  we  whine  like  women,"  he 
cried  scornfully,  as  he  lit  his  pipe  with 
a  splinter  from  the  fire.  "  Is  there  a 
beggarly  fur-trader  from  Havre  de 
Grace  who  would  whimper  if  famine 
pinched  him  ?" 

A  murmur  of  approval  ran  through 
the  hall,  and  died  away  among  the 
antlered  moose-heads  on  the  walls. 
The  Order  of  the  Good  Time  had  scant 
liking  for  the  thievish  traders  of  St. 
Malo  and  La  Havre.  *'  Besides," 
went  on  Biencourt,  confidently,  as 
though  the  argument  were  not  long 
since  worn  thread-bare,  "when  my 
father  left  for  France  last  autumn  he 
promised  to  send  a  supply-ship  for  the 
new  year.  Eh  bien!  the  supply-ship 
must  be  close  at  hand." 

In  the  great  hall  there  was  a  silence 
broken  only  by  the  crackling  of  the 
flames — the  tolerant  silence  of  men 
who  do  not  care  to  quarrel  uselessly. 
Imbert  rested  his  chin  upon  his  hands 
and  stared  thoughtfully  into  the  fire; 
but  for  a  moment  no  one  spoke,  till 
little  Gervais,  the  cripple,  best  chanson- 
singer  in  Port  Royal,  leaned  forward 
in  his  chair. 

'*  Let  us  be  happy,  gentlemen,"  he 
broke  in  brightly.  "  If  the  worst 
come,  it  is  a  goodly  company  we  go  to 
join.  I  remember  we  lost  thirty-five 
that  dreary  winter  on  the  island  in 
the  Passamaquoddy  Bay.  How  it  all 
comes  back  to  one! — the  circling  pines, 
the  frozen  ground,  and  the  cure  saying 
his  prayers  beside  the  open  grave, 
under  the  dull,  grey  sky." 

Jean  de  Plessis,  who  sat  close  up  to 
the  fire,  warming  his  shrivelled  hands, 
looked  up  smiling,  despite  his  years. 


He  was  a  snowy-haired  old  man  of 
seventy,  worn  with  illness  and  starva- 
tion, yet  his  smile  was  childlike  and 
sweet.  "And  the  comrades  lying  in 
the  cemetery  yonder,"  he  said  brightly, 
"are  they  not  waiting  to  give  us  a 
welcome  ?  There  is  poor  Pierre,  with 
whom  I  used  to  play  at  dice  the  winter 
Champlain  was  with  us,  and  to  whom 
I  owe  revenge.  Then  there  is  little 
Aubel,  who  wrote  ballads  to  his  mis- 
tress in  Paris  about  the  snow,  and 
who  perished  that  winter  night  just 
beyond  the  bend  of  the  river.  Oh,  I 
tell  you,"  he  went  on,  his  face  lighting 
up,  "there  will  be  old  comrades  to 
greet  us  !" 

Biencourt  laid  his  pipe  upon  the 
mantel  with  a  nod  to  Imbert.  The 
latter  shrugged  his  broad  shoulders  as 
he  rose  to  his  feet.  It  was  time  he 
should  accompany  Biencourt  on  their 
evening  round.  ".A  very  disagreeable 
idea!"  he  observed,  addressing  himself 
to  a  dark  figure  that  had  just  appeared 
in  the  doorway.  "  Must  a  man  face 
his  enemies  together,  and  he  alone? 
Besides,  there  may  be  men  we  do  not 
want  to  meet — eh,  M.  de  Garets?" 

The  new-comer,  who  was  clad  en- 
tirely in  black,  even  to  his  ruffles, 
came  slowly  into  the  glare  of  the  fire, 
which  gave  to  his  pointed  beard,  black 
eyebrows  and  deep-set,  smouldering 
eyes  an  expression  sinister  and  equiv- 
ocal. "  So  much  the  better  to  have 
them  precede  us!"  he  said  grimly, 
stretching  out  his  hands  toward  the 
blaze. 

The  Order  of  the  Good  Time  watched 
his  black-robed  figure  as  if  fascinated. 
Indeed,  they  never  wearied  of  the 
story  of  this  silent,  morose  man,  who, 
worsted  by  Fortune  in  France,  had 
fled  to  Acadie,  only  to  receive  fresh 
buff"ets  at  her  hands.  All  knew  of  the 
enmity  between  him  and  Biencourt — 
an  enmity  gendered  of  trifles,  but 
growing  bitter  by  degrees — and  of  the 
duel  the  two  had  fought  the  previous 
summer  on  the  bastion.  As  for  the 
duel  itself,  brief  and  bloodless  as  it 
was,  it  would  soon  have  been  forgotten 
but  for  a  curious  circumstance.  As 
Biencourt,  afterdisarminghisopponent, 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


handed  him  back  his  sword,  de  Carets 
had  been  seen  to  turn  pale  and  shiver. 
Next  instant  he  had  caught  up  his 
gorgeous  yellow  doublet  that  lay  upon 
the  bastion,  and  flung  it  with  a  curse 
into  the  miry  reek  outside  the  walls. 
"  I  will  wear  black  till  my  grief  passes," 
he  said  in  explanation;  and  from  that 
hour  he  had  worn  nothing  else,  dress- 
ing always  in  a  sombre  black  velvet 
that  matched  his  sombre  face. 

Imbert's  shaggy  eyebrows  were 
drawn  down  in  a  frown  as  he  watched 
the  newcomer  warming  his  hands. 
"  You  have  been  walking  in  the  snow," 
he  observed  shortly. 

"Not  I,"  was  the  cool  reply. 

"  You  have  forgotten  it  then,"  broke 
in  Gervais,  with  his  hearty  laugh. 
"Your  boots  are  wet.  ' 

All  looked  down.  De  Carets'  boots 
were  certainly  making  wet  marks  on 
the  polished  floor.  An  angry  denial 
leaped  from  his  lips,  "  1  have  not 
been  walking  in  the  snow,"  he  repeated 
sharply. 

Imbert  shrugged  his  shoulders  while 
he  followed  Biencourt  from  the  room. 
"Then  you  must  have  been  walking 
somewhere  else,"  he  said  politely,  as 
he  closed  the  door. 

The  square  of  the  fortress — hemmed 
in  on  two  sides  by  living  rooms,  on  a 
third  by  magazines  and  storehouses, 
and  on  the  fourth  by  the  bastion — 
loomed  spectrally  through  the  twilight, 
its  sheeted  houses  seeming  very  grave 
and  silent.  A  gusty  wind  blew  in  from 
sea,  and  tossed  the  fleur-de-lis  of 
France  that  flew  in  the  centre  of  the 
square  noisily  against  its  staff.  The 
four  cannon  on  the  bastion  were  in- 
distinguishable beneath  a  covering  of 
snow;  the  paths  across  the  square 
had  become  mere  ill-defined  and  half- 
obliterated  hollows  in  the  drifts. 

Imbert  paused  in  the  middle  of  their 
useless  round.  "  If  it  snows  again," 
he  said  reflectively,  "  we  are  too  weak 
to  shovel  the  pathways  clear,  and 
then — " 

"And  then?" 

The  old  soldier  pointed  to  an  Indian 
camp-fire,  flaring  on  a  tongue  of  land 
not  far  away.      "  The  deer  are  leagues 


deep  in  the  forest,  and  the  savages 
are  hungry  too.  Remember  the  tale 
Champlain  told  of  the  Penobscots  years 
ago." 

Biencourt  shuddered.  He  remem- 
bered the  gruesome  story  of  that 
nameless  crime  only  too  well.  Imbert 
paused  before  the  door  of  the  empty 
storehouse.  "  Where  did  that  knave, 
de  Carets,  get  his  boots  wet  ?"  he 
asked  suddenly. 

Biencourt  started  at  the  question. 
"  How  should  I  know?"  he  said,  after 
a  moment's  reflection. 

"  If  I  only  knew,"  went  on  Imbert, 
with  a  frown;  "but,  peste!  what  good 
would  it  do  ?  The  accursed  colony  is 
bewitched.  I  have  heard  the  red  gods 
of  Acadie  at  their  work,  and  I  tell  you 
Port  Royal  is  doomed." 

The  young  seigneur  of  Port  Royal 
gazed  absently  at  the  black  bulk  of  the 
storehouse  extending  downward  to  the 
bastion.  "  The  red  gods,"  he  repeated 
indifferently,  stepping  into  the  shelter 
of  the  wall,  for  the  air  was  biting  cold. 
"  What  of  them  ?" 

"  For  years  our  priests  have  mocked 
them,"  went  on  Imbert  moodily;  "  the 
cross  has  been  flaunted  over  their  holy 
places,  and  now  " — he  waved  his  hand 
toward  the  evergreen  forest,  which, 
like  some  beast  in  ambush,  lay  about 
the  little  fort,  its  dark  mass  black 
against  the  sky-line — "now  the  red 
gods  have  come  from  the  wilderness 
to  their  revenge.  Port  Royal  is  be- 
witched. I  have  known  it  these  three 
weeks." 

There  was  something  so  absurd  in 
the  older  man's  angry  attitude,  some- 
thing so  very  childish  in  his  fears,  that 
Biencourt  burst  into  a  hearty  laugh, 
leaning  for  support  against  the  store- 
house door.  Imbert's  superstitious 
fears  of  Indian  gods  had  been  the  sub- 
ject of  many  of  his  jests.  He  was 
about  to  deliver  himself  of  yet  another, 
despite  the  tragic  position  of  aff"airs, 
when  suddenly,  and  without  the  slight- 
est warning,  a  faint  sound  of  footsteps 
became  audible  from  the  empty  store- 
house behind. 

It  was  an  age  when  men  believed  in 
charms  and  diabolical  visitations,  and 


AN  UNREQUITED  VIGIL 


271 


when  a  certain  glamour  of  mystery 
still  hung  over  the  banished  gods  of 
the  Indians.  Strange  tales  of  their 
cruelty,  of  their  caprices,  of  their 
crimes,  passed  from  lip  to  lip  around 
dying  camp-fires;  tales  to  laugh  at  by 
daylight,  as  Biencourt  had  often 
laughed,  but  which  now,  in  the 
shadowy  gloom,  began  to  take  on  an 
air  of  menacing  and  unwelcome  truth. 
These  sinister  steps  in  the  empty  store- 
house, as  he  admitted  to  himself, 
struck  cold  upon  his  heart;  so  cold 
that  it  was  with  a  perceptible  effort 
that  he  bent  forward  to  listen. 

With  his  head  against  the  door  he 
found  it  possible  to  hear  a  faint  muffled 
sound,  as  of  some  one  walking  to  and 
fro  on  tiptoe,  followed  at  intervals  by 
the  subdued  clang  of  a  scabbard,  as 
though  the  invisible  walker  faced 
quickly  on  his  heel  whenever  he  reached 
the  limit  of  his  walk;  the  whole  indis- 
tinct and  far  away  as  though  coming 
from  a  distance.  For  a  moment  Bien- 
court listened;  then  he  drew  back 
irresolutely.  Imbert's  contention  no 
longer  seemed  ridiculous. 

The  storehouse  was  empty;  he  had 
locked  the  door  that  morning  after  the 
last  food  had  been  removed.  The 
brass  key  itself  lay  in  his  pocket;  he 
could  feel  it  as  he  stood  there.  That 
a  man  could  be  in  the  storehouse  was 
in  itself  impossible;  that  he  could 
march  to  and  fro  and  make  no  more 
noise  than  the  faint  echoes  to  which 
they  had  been  listening  was  manifestly 
absurd.  The  young  seigneur,  mind- 
ful of  many  curious  happenings  in 
Acadie,  felt  a  thrill  of  wonder  and 
apprehension  pass  over  him.  He 
turned  toward  his  companion,  and  just 
at  that  instant  caught  a  glint  of  light 
from  the  guard-room  at  the  gate  of  the 
fort.  **  I  will  get  a  torch  from  the 
sentry,"  he  whispered  on  a  sudden 
impulse,  '*  and  we  will  go  in." 

Beside  the  great  stone  gateway, 
carven  above  with  the  lilies  of  France, 
was  the  guard-room,  lit  by  a  roaring 
fire  that  threw  fantastic  shadows  on 
the  walls,  and  flung  a  lonely  shaft  of 
light  into  the  wilderness  without.  As 
Biencourt  entered,  the  sentry — agaunt, 


bloodless  fellow  with  high  cheek-bones 
— was  in  a  reverie;  his  arquebuse  had 
fallen  to  the  floor,  and  he  sat  with 
clasped  hands  staring  blankly  at  the 
wall. 

"A  torch,  Pierre,"  said  his  master 
kindly;  "and  have  you  had  your 
rations  yet?" 

The  soldier  staggered  to  his  feet  as 
he  saluted,  and  pointed  to  a  scant 
handful  of  dried  pease  that  lay  upon 
the  table.  '*The  good  Father  Biard 
gave  them  to  me  this  morning,"  said 
he,  lighting  a  huge  pine-knot  at  the 
fire;  "but  I  keep  them  till  the  famine 
bites  deeper." 

Within  the  square  were  formless 
masses  of  frozen  snow,  which,  as 
Biencourt,  torch  in  hand,  retraced  his 
steps,  loomed  suddenly  upon  his  near 
approach  like  foes  from  ambush.  But 
near  the  storehouse  the  snow  had  been 
swept  clean,  and  there  the  flickering 
light  fell  fitfully  upon  the  iron-studded 
door,  and  threw  Imbert's  elongated 
shadow  in  wavering  outlines  half  across 
it.  Both  men  drew  their  swords  in 
silence.  Then  Biencourt,  inserting  the 
key,  flung  the  door  wide  open,  and 
they  entered. 

There  was  absolutely  nothing  in  the 
long,  empty  room.  Not  a  single  pack- 
age of  stores  lay  on  the  empty  shelves; 
the  wreckage  of  boxes  and  barrels 
had  been  taken  away  earlier  in  the 
day,  and  only  stains  and  discolora- 
tions  showed  where  it  had  lain.  In 
such  an  utterly  bare  space  nothing 
could  possibly  be  hidden;  and  Bien- 
court, who  had  been  vaguely  expect- 
ant of  some  solution  to  the  mystery, 
shook  his  head  with  disappointment. 
"The  place  is  bewitched,"  he  cried 
angrily. 

A  moment  later  as  the  two  stood 
staring  blankly  at  each  other,  the  si- 
lence was  broken  by  a  faint  creaking 
sound,  as  though  an  invisible  door  was 
being  slowly  opened;  and  then,  without 
further  warning,  the  noise  they  had 
before  heard  recommenced,  this  time 
somewhat  more  distinctly.  To  and 
fro  went  the  steps,  five  and  then  a 
pause,  as  though  the  unseen  walker 
were  parading  up  and  down  the  empty 


272 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


storehouse  on  tiptoe.  Imbert,  who 
held  the  torch,  flung  its  light  upon  the 
cobwebs  in  the  corner  as  though  the 
secret  lurked  there,  then  he  lowered  it 
again. 

"No  Indian  walks  that  way,"  he 
said  slowly.  **  It  is  a  white  man's 
stride.  And  of  all  the  white  men  who 
have  died  in  Acadie,  never  one  had 
walk  like  this.  And  of  living  men,"  he 
went  on  frowningly — 

"Yes,"  interjected  the  other  im- 
patiently, "what  of  them?" 

For  answer  Imbert  stamped  his  foot 
on  the  wooden  floor  and  a  faint,  im- 
palpable dust  rose  ceilingward  in  awan 
cloud.  The  sound  rang  hollowly 
through  the  empty  room,  then  the 
echoes  died  and  all  was  silent  as  the 
grave.  The  mysterious  steps  had 
ceased  as  if  by  magic. 

Nor  were  they  renewed,  though  the 
two  waited  some  minutes  in  a  tense 
silence.  Finally  Imbert  sheathed  his 
sword  with  a  gesture  of  relief  and 
turned  toward  the  door.  "  I  need 
time  to  think,  lad,"  he  said  with  deci- 
sion, "and  I  need  to  look  at  the  old 
plan  of  the  fort  in  my  room.  Besides 
the  members  of  the  Order  must  be 
growing  impatient  for  their  supper." 

Biencourt  nodded  assent.  "  No 
doubt,"  he  admitted,  as  he  closed  and 
locked  the  door  behind  them.  "  But 
I  wonder  what  those  sounds  por- 
tend." 

The  older  man  quenched  the  torch 
in  a  mound  of  snow.  "  Who  knows? 
A  death — a  sudden  death — in  the  Or- 
der, maybe,"  he  said  reflectively. 

They  were  very  merry  that  evening 
in  the  great  hall  of  the  seigneurie. 
Candles  had  been  lit  in  the  tall  brass 
candlesticks  on  the  oaken  table,  and 
in  sconces  above  the  doorway,  and  in 
their  mellow  light  the  weapons  and 
strange  Indian  relics  on  the  walls 
showed  in  bold  relief  against  the  dark 
wainscoting.  On  a  settle  near  the 
fire  Imbert  sat  absorbed  in  a  small 
leather-bound  volume  he  had  brought 
from  his  room,  while  the  rest  of  the 
Order  of  the  Good  Time  watched  the 
famished  lackeys  as  they  set  the  wine 
cups  on    the    table.      Then    presently 


Raoul  de  Carets  entered,  and  lackeys 
and  wine  were  both  forgotten. 

He  had  thrown  aside  his  dress  of 
sombre  black,  and  now  appeared  in  a 
green  doublet  slashed  with  pink;  a 
smile  was  on  his  lips  as  he  glanced 
about  the  room.  "  I  am  happy  once 
more,"  said  he  brightly,  "or  at  all 
events  I  will  try  to  be  happy  for  the 
last  meeting." 

The  members  of  the  Order  nodded 
their  approval.  It  was,  indeed,  the 
club's  last  meeting  ere  they  should 
sup  with  that  grim  clubman,  Death. 
Biencourt,  who  was  president  for  the 
week,  and  therefore  giver  of  the  even- 
ing's feast,  began  donning  his  embroid- 
ered collar  of  office.  "The  cur6  says 
life  is  like  a  flame,"  he  observed. 
"  Surely  it  is  better  it  should  blaze, 
even  if  it  burns  the  sooner  to  the 
ember." 

"  And  I,"  said  Jean  de  Plessis,  with 
an  air  of  consideration,  "have  no  ob- 
jection if  the  embers  flicker  up  once 
more  ere  the  fire  goes  black  out,  and 
the  night  comes." 

Imbert  rose  to  his  feet,  keeping  his 
place  in  the  book  with  one  finger. 
"Fine  speeches  but  foolish  ones,"  was 
his  comment,  as  the  club  gathered 
around  the  table.  "Who  wants  to 
die?  Not  you  and  I,  eh,  M.  de  Carets?" 

De  Carets  started  and  shivered. 
"Not  I,  certainly,"  he  agreed.  "Port 
Royal  would  be  a  dull  place  to  die  in." 
He  took  his  seat  at  the  table.  "  The 
dullest  place  in  the  world,"  he  added. 

One  of  the  cherished  rules  of  the 
society  was  that  relating  to  the  supply 
of  the  table.  Upon  the  president  of 
the  evening  rested  the  responsibility  of 
furnishing  the  weekly  dinner,  a  matter 
of  no  great  hardship  generally,  for  the 
Order  of  the  Cood  Time  wisely  chose 
its  president  a  week  in  advance,  to 
give  him  time  enough  for  preparation. 
But  of  late  the  dinners  had  been  grow- 
ing astonishingly  meagre.  The  pre- 
vious week  Jean  de  Plessis  had  been 
able  to  provide  nothing  better  than 
dried  pease  and  broken  biscuits.  And 
now  as  the  Order  settled  into  their 
high-backed  chairs,  not  a  few  wagers 
depended  on  the  question.   What  had 


AN  UNREQUITED   VIGIL 


a73 


Biencourt  obtained  for  their  last  meet- 
ing? 

They  were  soon  to  know.  Jean  de 
Plessis,  who  by  virtue  of  age  sat  next 
to  Biencourt,  removed  the  cover  from 
his  dish  with  a  flourish,  and  revealed 
the  contents.  There  was  nothing 
within  but  a  few  spruce  twigs,  inter- 
spersed with  pieces  of  melting  ice. 
With  one  impulse  the  others  removed 
the  covers  from  the  dishes  before  them, 
disclosing  in  all  spruce  twigs  and  ice. 
A  riotous  laugh  burst  from  the  assem- 
bled clubmen.  This  was  indeed  the 
finest  jest  Port  Royal  had  ever  known. 

Old  Jean  de  Plessis  laughed  till  the 
tears  ran  down  his  cheeks.  "Ah,  it  is 
a  rare  jest,"  he  cried  admiringly. 
"The  pity  is  that  it  will  die  with  us." 

"And  that  is  a  pity,"  observed  de 
Carets  grimly. 

Gervais  touched  the  keynote  and 
gave  expression  to  the  irony  beneath 
the  laughter.  "  It  is  all  so  droll,  is  it 
not.  Messieurs?  Twigs  and  ice.  The 
lonely  forests  and  the  limitless  ice  to 
watch  our  graves." 

De  Carets  lifted  his  wine-cup  slowly 
to  his  lips,  smiling  the  while  a  curious 
smile.  The  mellow  candle-light  touched 
his  dark  face  lightly  and  played  like 
gleams  of  flame  across  his  brooding 
eyes.  "It  will  be  very  lonely  lying 
out  on  the  hillsides,"  said  he,  "very 
lonely." 

"The  king  may  build  a  town  here 
some  day,"  observed  Biencourt,  "and 
strangers  may  chance  upon  our  bones 
and  wonder  who  we  were." 

"  If  there  are  kings  in  that  time  to 
come,"  interjected  de  Carets.  "Per- 
chance the  future  holds  little  for 
kings." 

Imbert,  who  had  been  sitting  im- 
mersed in  his  book,  turned  toward  the 
speaker  with  a  frown.  "A  poor  din- 
ner, what  say  you,  M.  de  Carets  ?"  he 
cried  in  gruff  tones,  lifting  one  of  the 
spruce  twigs  from  the  dish  before  him, 
and  holding  it  poised  between  thumb 
and  forefinger.  "  I  wager  you  and  I 
can  find  a  better  one  without  such  silly 
jokes." 

De  Carets  lifted  his  eyebrows  in 
enquiry,  as   he    refilled    his    wine-cup. 


"The  joke  is  by  no  means  silly;  and 
and  where  should  we  find  a  better 
dinner?" 

Imbert  closed  his  book  with  pre- 
cision. Then  he  stepped  back  from 
the  table  and  drew  his  sword.  "In 
the  secret  chamber  you  have  just  come 
from,  underneath  the  storehouse,"  he 
said  with  a  futile  attempt  to  mock  de 
Carets'  langour. 

There  was  a  roar  from  the  club  like 
the  roar  of  caged  and  angry  lions. 
Swords  were  drawn  and  chairs  flung 
aside  as  the  members  started  to  their 
feet,  and  drew  together  in  a  wall  of 
steel  around  de  Carets,  who,  regard- 
less of  the  demonstration,  sat  sipping 
his  wine  without  a  tremor. 

"  Your  Cascon  manners  weary  me," 
he  cried,  addressing  himself  to  Imbert; 
"  always  the  same — theatrical  and 
silly — as  if  this  were  a  scene  from  one 
of  Master  Shakespeare's  stupid  English 
plays.  I  have  but  to  close  my  eyes  to 
fancy  myself  in  a  London  theatre,  lis- 
tening again  to  Hamlet's  weary 
mouthings."  He  sat  back  in  his  chair 
with  a  little  sigh.  Imbert  pointed  at 
him. 

"The  rogue  had  not  been  out,  yet 
his  shoes  were  wet;  therefore  I  sus- 
pected. An  hour  ago  in  the  store- 
house I  heard  his  footsteps  beneath 
plainly  enough  to  detect  his  curious 
stride;  the  old  plan  of  the  fort  showed 
me  the  rest,  an  excavation  beneath 
the  storehouse  once  made  for  a  maga- 
zine. Then  I  knew  the  wet  feet  came 
from  the  damp  underground  road  he 
had  been  treading — a  road  he  must 
tread  for  the  club  again  before  he 
dies." 

The  members  of  the  Order  of  the 
Cood  Time  were  no  longer  men.  The 
gay  mask  they  had  been  wearing  had 
dropped  suddenly  and  completely,  and 
the  primitive  savage  love  of  existence 
now  spoke  eloquently  from  their  faces. 
As  the  light  of  the  candles  in  the  great 
hall  played  athwart  them  they  seemed 
incarnate  appetites  standing  there. 

Raoul  de  Carets  laughed  mirth- 
lessly as  he  set  his  wine-cup  down  on 
the  table.  "And  I  imagined  my  run 
of  ill-luck  was  over,"  he  said  with  bit- 


274 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


ter  scorn.  "One  life  in  Paris,  and 
now  the  other  here.  It  was  the  old 
seigneur's  secret,  not  mine,"  he  went 
on  composedly;  "he  gave  me  a  note 
to  Biencourt  the  day  he  went  away — " 

'*  I  remember,"  broke  in  Gervais 
eagerly.  "We  two  were  the  last  to 
speak  to  him,  as  his  vessel  passed  our 
canoe  in  the  lower  bay.  It  was  then 
he  gave  de  Garets  the  note." 

Biencourt  shivered  violently,  as 
though  the  treachery  had  been  his 
own.  "And  that  very  day,"  said  he, 
"  though  he  gave  me  no  letter,  he  did 
ask  me  something — the  privilege  of 
occupying  my  father's  private  room — 
the  gloomy  one  to  the  right;  and  as  he 
claimed  a  promise  from  my  father,  I 
let  him  have  it." 

Imbert  stamped  his  foot  upon  the 
floor.  "Ay,  the  room  that  must  hold 
the  door  to  the  secret  passage,"  he 
cried.  "Oh,  be  sure  this  wretch  will 
pay  for  our  sufferings,  drop  by  drop, 
with  his  life-blood.      He  shall  die — " 

"Who  shall  die,  son?"  said  a  gentle 
voice,  and  Father  Biard,  who  had  been 
a  silent  witness,  stepped  in  from  the 
doorway.  The  good  priest's  once 
stout  form  was  now  much  shrunken, 
and  his  face,  before  round  and  smil- 
ing, was  now  worn  and  haggard, 
though  his  dark  eyes  still  gleamed 
brightly  from  beneath  his  coal-black 
hair.  In  his  right  hand  he  lifted  aloft 
his  silver  crucifix  and  held  it  above  de 
Garets,  who,  with  one  elbow  on  the 
table,  toyed  thoughtfully  with  his 
ruffles.  "He  has  done  enough  for 
death,  yet  I  claim  him  even  in  the  val- 
ley of  the  shadow.  What,  shall  men 
snatched  by  God's  mercy  and  one 
man's  wit  from  a  cruel  death  dare  vent 
their  rage  in  such  a  manner?  Mes- 
sieurs of  the  club  and  SeigVieur  of  Port 
Royal,  I  claim  this  man's  life  for  God." 

Father  Biard  spoke  earnestly,  his 
deep  tones  filling  the  great  hall;  and, 
as  he  spoke,  a  hush  fell  upon  his 
hearers,  their  sword-points  drooped, 
and  even  old  Imbert,  who  had  scant 
enough  liking  for  priests,  was  some- 
what touched. 

"  Ay,  we  are  all  in  the  valley  of  the 
shadow,  father,"  he  said  soberly.     "  If 


you  hold  him  you  may  have  him;  but 
if  you  loose  your  hold  I  swear  I  will 
run  him  through." 

Therefore  it  chanced  that  night  that 
there  was  a  strange  procession.  Father 
Biard  and  de  Garets  led  the  way,  arm 
in  arm;  the  former  crucifix  in  hand, 
the  latter  smiling  in  his  sombre  fashion. 
And  behind,  with  drawn  swords,  came 
the  members  of  the  club,  Biencourt 
and  Imbert  leading,  Jean  de  Plessis 
and  Gervais  bringing  up  the  rear. 

The  hidden  door  in  de  Garets'  room 
was  soon  opened,  and  then,  torch  in 
hand,  the  procession  descended  a  flight 
of  rude  stone  steps  into  a  roughly 
paved  stone  passage.  Here  the  scene 
became  fantastic  as  the  light  of  the 
pine-knots  glanced  from  the  damp 
pavements  and  frozen  walls,  and 
touched  the  unsheathed  swords.  But 
always  it  flamed  brightest  on  the 
silver  crucifix  in  Father  Biard's  hands, 
and  on  Imbert's  mighty  sword,  poised 
ready  to  strike  if  the  priest  should  even 
for  an  instant  lose  his  hold. 

But  this  he  never  did,  holding  de 
Garets  tenderly  as  a  child,  despite  his 
scornful  protests;  and  in  this  fashion 
they  passed  through  an  open  door  into 
the  secret  storehouse  beyond. 

It  was  a  small,  rough-hewn  chamber, 
piled  high  with  boxes  and  barrels — 
provisions  enough  for  several  months 
to  come.  In  one  corner  were  broken 
packages,  showing  where  de  Garets 
had  made  inroads  on  the  stores;  and, 
fastened  before  a  tall  candle  (rifled 
from  a  large  boxful),  was  the  most 
curious  thing  of  all — a  letter  to  Bien- 
court from  his  father,  sent  through  de 
Garets  himself,  telling  of  the  secret 
storehouse,  and  how,  during  an  absence 
of  the  garrison  the  previous  summer, 
he  had,  assisted  by  three  of  his  personal 
attendants,  prepared  it  for  an  emerg- 
ency. "  I  had  not  intended  to  tell  you 
the  secret,"  the  letter  went  on,  "but 
since  leaving  Port  Royal  an  hour  ago 
I  have  begun  to  fear  lest  the  supply- 
ship  may  be  delayed;  so  send  this  by 
a  trusty  hand." 

All  gathered  around  as  Biencourt 
read  the  letter  aloud.  The  paper  was 
wagging  slowly  in   a   draught,   which 


CA:VAD/AN  LITERATURE 


275 


came,  it  was  afterwards  discovered, 
from  an  ingeniously-contrived  ventila- 
tion hole  leading  outward  beneath  the 
bastion.  On  the  floor,  under  the  letter, 
were  scattered  fragments  of  biscuits, 
showing  that  the  wretch  had  been 
there,  gloating  over  his  vengeance. 
The  gruesome  sight  was  almost  too 
much  for  Imbert's  self-possession,  and 
he  again  lifted  his  sword.  But  Father 
Biard  gently  raised  his  crucifix  and 
drew  do  Garets  lighter,  and  Imbert 
fell  back.  "Only  that  your  hand 
holds  him,  father,"  he  cried  angrily. 

Ten  minutes  later  the  Order  of  the 
Good  Time  was  again  seated  at  table 
in  the  great  hall  of  the  seigneurie,  eat- 
ing and  making  merry;  while  on  the 
deep  settle  skirting  the  room,  in  the 
kitchen,  and  in  the  hallway,  Pierre  the 
sentry  and  the  other  retainers  of  Port 
Royal  were  seated,  all  feasting  bravely. 
Everyone  gave  a  toast.  Biencourt 
was  in  sparkling  humour;  Gervais  sur- 
passed himself  with  his  merry  jests. 
Only    Imbert     said     little,     contenting 


himself  with  sitting,  sword  in  hand, 
beside  the  cur^  and  de  Carets. 

All  through  the  night  the  revelling 
went  on,  and  still  these  three  sat  silent; 
Father  Biard  holding  de  Carets  by  the 
hand,  and  Imbert  watching  to  see  him 
lose  his  hold.  It  was  morning  when 
the  club  sang  its  last  chanson  and  ad- 
journed, and  then  de  Carets  turned 
upon  Father  Biard  with  a  frown. 
"  Vou  weary  me  with  your  prayers, 
old  meddler!"  he  cried  angrily.  "What 
is  life  to  a  man  who  has  lost  honour? 
May  my  curse  go  with  you!"  And  he 
flung  himself  out  of  the  room. 

In  the  great  hall,  where  the  candles 
sputtered  low  amid  a  cloud  of  shadows, 
Father  Biard  remained  alone  upon  his 
knees.  His  lips  moved  slowly  as  if  in 
prayer,  and  as  the  grey  light  of  dawn 
crept  through  the  latticed  windows, 
his  hair,  black  the  night  before,  showed 
grey  about  the  temples,  and  the  face 
itself  was  worn  and  old  and  lined  with 
pain. 


CANADIAN    LITERATURE    • 


From  the  Stratford  Herald  of  December  ^th. 


*'  ''pHK  growing  campaign  to  en- 
■*•  courage  *  Made  in  Canada ' 
articles  should  extend  to  our  literature. 
And  our  literature  is  improving.  By 
degrees  it  is  attaining  worthy  rank. 
The  books  of  Ralph  Connor  have  given 
Canadian  literature  a  new  impetus,  and 
doubtless  his  new  one  just  out,  "The 
Prospector,"  will  make  another  big 
record  as  a  seller.  Sir  Gilbert  Parker's 
books  have  also  brought  fame  to 
Canada,  and  by  the  way  a  most  inform- 
ing illustrated  article  in  the  same  num- 
ber of  The  Canadian  Magazine  is  by 
that  eminent  Canadian  member  of  the 
British  House  of  Commons,  describing 
his  experiences  as  a  new  member  of 
that  august  body.  The  Canadian 
Magazine  itself  is  a  splendid  exemplar 
of  Canadian  progress  in  literature. 
We  doubt  if  any  of  our  manufacturers 


can  show  a  higher  percentage  of  ad- 
vancement than  has  been  exhibited  by 
The  Canadian  Magazine  in  recent 
years.  In  attractiveness  of  contents 
as  well  as  of  printing  and  pictorial 
embellishment,  it  vies  with  the  sump- 
tuous American  magazine,  but  it  has 
the  Canadian  and  national  flavour  that 
can  be  found  nowhere  else  and  that  is 
grateful  to  a  real  Canadian's  pride  in 
his  growing  country.  The  best  minds 
in  Canada  are  among  its  contributors 
— men  often  of  national  repute.  We 
should  like  to  see  The  Canadian  Maga- 
zine displace  some  tens  of  thousands 
of  foreign  magazines  which  find  sale 
here.  We  don't  hope  this  solely  be- 
cause the  magazine  is  Canadian,  but 
because  of  belief  that  satisfaction  will 
result  from  applying  to  it  the  principle 
of  home  preference." 


NEW  YEAR  FOR  THE  NATIONS 

WHAT  the  year  1905  may  have  in 
store  for  the  nations  is  a  matter 
of  absorbing- speculation.  It  is  doubtful 
if  there  ever  was  a  time  which  exhib- 
ited more  contradictory  traits  and  ten- 
dencies. We  have  on  the  one  hand 
the  Hague  Peace  Tribunal  and  on  the 
other  two  nations  engaged  in  the  most 
sanguinary  war  of  modern  times.  To 
the  initiative  of  one  of  these  the  Peace 
Tribunal  owes  its  existence,  the  other  is 
a  subscriber  to  the  principle.  We  have 
the  President  of  the  United  States  in 
his  annual  message  to  Congress  relat- 
ing that  he  has  invited  the  nations  to 
partake  in  another  Peace  Conference, 
and  in  subsequent  paragraphs  urging 


WHY? 

Russian  Soldier — ' 


I  died  for  the 


Skull  of  Common 
glory  of  the  Czar." 

Skull  of  Common  Japanese  Soldier — "And  I  for  the 
glory  of  the  Mikado."  — Boise  Statesman. 

276 


his  countrymen  to  go  on  increasing 
the  strength  of  the  navy.  "The 
strong  arm  of  the  government,"  he 
says,  "  in  enforcing  respect  for  its 
just  rights  in  international  matters  is 
the  navy  of  the  United  States.  .  .  .Our 
voice  is  now  potent  for  peace,  and  is 
so  potent  because  we  are  not  afraid  of 
war."  In  another  paragraph  he  prac- 
tically notifies  the  southern  and  cen- 
tral countries  of  this  hemisphere  that 
they  must  act  in  a  manner  pleasing  to 
the  United  States  or  suffer  their  dis- 
pleasure. "  Chronic  wrongdoing,"  he 
says,  "or  an  impotence  which  results 
in  a  general  loosening  of  the  ties  of 
civilised  society,  may  in  America,  as 
elsewhere,  ultimately  require  interven- 
tion by  some  civilised  nation,  and  in  the 
western  hemisphere  the  ad- 
herence of  the  United  States 
to  the  Monroe  Doctrine  may 
force  the  United  States,  how- 
ever reluctantly,  in  flagrant 
cases  of  such  wrongdoing  or 
impotence,  to  the  exercise 
of  an  international  police 
power." 

There  is  another  aspect  of 
the  time  in  which  strong 
contrasts  are  presented.  It 
will  be  remembered  how 
sensitive  the  English-speak- 
ing world  was  with  regard 
to  the  butcher  bills  of  the 
South  African  war.  The 
whole  Empire  grieved  over 
the  slaughter  at  Magersfon- 
tein.  Yet  there  have  been 
scores  of  Magersfonteins  in 
the  present  struggle  in  the 
East,  and  still  the  butchery 
goes  on.  The  two  peoples 
whose  children  are  being 
mown  down  by  the  scores 
of  thousands  do  not  appear 


CURRENT  EVENTS  ABROAD 


277 


O 


fi/kiatun  q 


203   METRE   HILI^   AT  PORT  ARTHVR 

1  >  nt  position  commands  the  new  town  of  Port  Arthur  and  the  deeper  portion  of  the  Harfoonr. 

Its  ca;  Japanese,  though  costly,  enabled  them  to  mount  gims  in  such  a  poritkm  as  to  command 

the  Ru  They  then  proceeded  to  sink  them  in  order.     The  forts  on  the  east  side  of  the  Railway 

are  still  in  pas<>cssion  of  the  Russians. 


to  be  Stopped  for  a  moment  by  the 
spectacle.  Consider  these  sentences 
taken  from  an  account  of  the  fighting 
at  Port  Arthur:  "For  over  thirty  yards 
between  the  trenches  there  was  a  veri- 
table shambles.  The  last  fighting  was 
over  the  slain.  ...The  ramparts  were 
black    with    bodies.  ..  .The    defenders 

were     annihilated Their     artillery 

made  the  interior  forts  a  seething 
cauldron  of  bursting  shells.  .  .  .The 
struggle  was  absolutely  hand-to-hand. 
The  defenders  of  the  greatest  part  of 
the  bombproofs  on  the  lower  levels  of 
the  fort  were  annihilated,  and  the  sec- 
tions and  cross-sections  of  the  bomb- 
proofs  were  piled  with  corpses." 

The  question  that  arises  is,  Are  the 
nations  which  curdle  with  horror  over 


a  Magersfontein  made  of  stuff  stem 
enough  to  sustain  their  places  in  the 
world  against  neighbours  who  sustain 
these  infinite  hecatombs  of  slaughter 
with  almost  unbroken  equanimity.  It 
is  the  barbarian's  indifference  to  blood- 
shed and  suffering.  We  are  witnes- 
sing a  conflict  between  Goths  and 
Huns  armed  with  the  latest  destructive 
inventions  of  the  twentieth  century. 
Are  the  advanced  nations,  steeped  as 
they  are  in  humanitarian  sentiment,  pre- 
pared to  hold  their  own  against  nations 
which  devote  whole  armies  to  destruc- 
tion with  grim  serenity?  It  is  a  serious 
question.  Our  encounters  with  bar- 
barism have  hitherto  been  of  the  kind 
where  a  small,  select,  highly-trained 
and  finely-armed  force  was  pitted 
against  hosts  of  brave  but  ill-discip- 
lined and  absurdly  armed  savages.     It 


278 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


ANDREW  CARNEGIE  WOULD  HAVE  A  PEACE  TRIBUNAL  WITH 

POWER  TO  ENFORCE  DECISIONS. — St.  Paul  Dispatch. 


was    the 
assegai    or 


machine  gun  against  the 
bolo.  Exception  may  be 
taken  to  classing  the  Russians  and 
Japanese  with  savages.  There  is  no 
such  intention,  save  to  point  out  that 
the  rulers  of  both  retain  the  savage's 
contempt  for  death  and  the  barbarian's 
callousness  to  carnage  and  its  accom- 
panying hideous  misery  and  anguish. 
Are  the  leaders  of  the  world's  civilisa- 
tion about  to  go  down  before  the  ruth- 
less temper  of  barbarism,  as  the  civil- 
ised Roman  was  submerged  by  the 
onset  of  the  hardy  natives  of  the 
German  forests?  We  have  the  teach- 
ings of  history  for  our  guidance,  and 
those  of  us  who  draw  from  its  pages 
the  lesson  that  humanity,  in  spite  of 
all  obstacles,  staggers  resolutely  up- 
wards, will  believe  that  the  better  part 
will  rescue  itself  from  any  such  im- 
pending social  or  political  cataclysm. 
The  lesson  we  may  have  to  learn  may 
be  that  there  is  something  else  for  the 
individual  civilised  man  to  do  than 
studying  how  to  prolong  his  days. 


In  the    meantime  one    of  the   ogre 
nations  is  having  as  much  trouble  as 


the  one-eyed  giant  who 
fell  a  victim  to  the  wiles 
of  Noman.  His  adven- 
tures in  war  are  still  of 
the  disastrous  kind.  He 
seems  to  be  doing  every- 
thing too  late.  His  Euro- 
pean fleets  are  starting 
for  the  scene  of  conflict 
just  at  the  juncture  when 
they  can  neither  aid,  nor 
expect  aid,  from  their 
brethren  at  Port  Arthur  or 
Vladivostock.  Forty  mil- 
lion dollars'  worth  of  bat- 
tleships, cruisers  and 
Wasps  and  Hornets  lie 
battered  like  old  tin  ket- 
tles at  the  bottom  of 
Port  Arthur  harbour.  Re- 
lieved of  watching  these, 
Admiral  Togo  is  free  to 
go  forth  and  turn  his 
attention  to  Vladivo- 
stock or  the  approaching 
Baltic  fleet.  The  future  that  looms 
before  the  latter  mailed  argosy  is  epic 
in  its  possibilities.  All  sorts  of  mor- 
tuary ideas  crowd  the  mind  while 
thinking  of  it.  The  procession  to  the 
scaff"old,  the  night  before  the  fatal  duel, 
and  other  similar  mental  pictures  arise, 
but  the  uppermost  thought  is  that 
Russia  and  the  whole  world  feels  that 
it  is  steaming  around  the  globe  to  its 
doom.  The  unexpected  may  happen, 
but  it  is  a  safe  species  of  prophecy  to 
say  that  when  the  Baltic  fleet  has  met 
the  enemy  the  word  "  delenda  "  may 
be  written. 

In  the  meantime  the  Russian  author- 
ities have  trouble  at  home.  The 
representatives  of  the  municipalities 
are  pressing  to  be  called  together  in  a 
central  gathering,  which  might  be 
regarded  as  the  germ  of  a  Parliament 
or  states-general.  While  this  move- 
ment is  progressing  serious  riots  break 
out  in  St.  Petersburg,  giving  rise  to 
the  fear  that  any  disposition  that  the 
Czar  might  have  had  towards  grant- 
ing the  wishes  of  the  Zemstvos  will  be 
chilled  by  the  inopportune  outbreak 
of  the  populace  of  the  capital.     Alto- 


CURRENT  EVENTS  ABROAD 


279 


gether  the  condition  of  the 
hugfe  empire  both  at  home 
and  abroad  is  perilous,  and 
King  Richard's  conclusion, 
'*  Uneasy  lies  the  head  that 
wears  a  crown,"  was  never 
more  strikingly  illustrated 
than  in  the  case  of  Nicholas 
II,  Czar  of  all  the  Russias. 

So  large  a  place  is  held  by 
the  problems  to  which  the 
Russo-Japanese  war  has 
given  rise  that  the  affairs  of 
other  nations  seem  tame  and 
almost  insignificant  in  com- 
parison. But  it  is  a  case 
where  "happy  is  the  na- 
tion whose  annals  are  dull." 
France  is  able  to  lookabroad 
on  the  New  Year  with  confi- 
dence. In  spite  of  all  as- 
saults of  its  enemies,  the 
Combes  Ministry  maintains 
a  firm  hold  on  power,  and 
proceeds  with  its  secularising  program- 
me with  a  ruthlessness  that  one  would 
think  would  eventually  arouse  sym- 
pathy with  the  excluded  religious  and 
teaching  orders.  Thanks  to  M.  Del- 
casse,  France's  foreign  relations  were 
never  on  firmer  ground.  The  only 
ominous  thing  is  the  staggering  load 
of  taxation  which  the  country  bears, 
from  which  there  is  no  hope  of  relief 
while  her  armaments  are  maintained 
on  their  present  scale.  Some  level- 
headed man  may  happen  along  one  of 
these  days  and  have  the  courage  to 
propose  retrenchments  in  the  military 
expenditures,  to  give  industry  and 
energy  a  chance  to  breathe. 

Germany  is  chiefly  engaged  in  en- 
deavouring to  find  a  solution  for  its 
economic  problems,  and  seems  to  be 
interesting  itself  so  little  in  foreign 
problems  that  the  campaign  of  the 
anti-German  National  Review  and  other 
English  publications  is  beginning  to 
look    a  little  like  a  nightmare.      It  is 


CHRIST  AND  Bt'DOHA  ON   THE  SHAKHE 

"And  they  ask  our  aid  for  this! "  —Jugend  (Munich) 


true  that  the  German  Minister  at  Pekin 
is  represented  as  making  trouble  there 
over  the  approval  of  the  British-Thibet 
treaty,  but,  with  or  without  the  ap- 
proval of  Pekin,  the  Anglo-Indian 
authorities  will  insist  that  the  relations 
between  Delhi  and  Lhasa  shall  be  on 
the  basis  of  that  treaty.  The  German 
Bogey  has  been  overdone.  The  only 
real  point  of  abrasion  between  Ger- 
many and  Britain  is  the  trade  one. 
.As  both  nations  are  pursuing  fiscal 
policies  diametrically  opposite  to  each 
other,  students  of  economics  ought  to 
have  some  valuable  material  for  the 
enforcement  or  abandonment  of  their 
arguments  within  the  next  few  years. 
In  the  meantime  the  great  problem 
for  the  German  statesman  is  to 
satisfy  the  agrarian  interest  with  al- 
most prohibitive  duties  on  farm  prod- 
uce, while  at  the  same  time  affording 
the  masses  of  workingmen  food  at 
reasonable  figures.  It  is  not  the  first 
time  that  a  solution  has  been  sought 
for  this,  and  it  grows  no  simpler  with 
the  flight  of  years. 

John  A.   EToan 


X^rtAN 


3PHtRL 


w 


^^^,,,,^.„_^  -^^rv-  — "^r^ — ™.S5~—  ^^ 


CHILD   AND    MOTHER 

0  mother-my-love,    if    you'll   give    me   your 

hand 
And  go  where  I  ask  you  to  wander, 

1  will  lead  you  away  to  a  beautiful  land, 
The  Dreamland  that's  waiting  out  yonder. 

We'll  walk  in  a  sweet  posy-garden  out  there, 
Where  moonlight  and  starlight  are  stream- 
ing, 
And  the  flowers  and  the  birds  are  filling  the 
air 
With  the  fragrance  and  music  of  dreaming. 

There'll  be  no  little  tired-out  boy  to  undress, 

No  questions  or  cares  to  perplex  you; 
There'll  be  no  little  bruises  or  bumps  to  caress. 

Nor  patching  of  stockings  to  vex  you; 
For  I'll  rock  you  away  on  a  silver-dew  stream. 

And  sing  you  asleep  when  you're  weary. 
And  no  one  shall  know  of  our  beautiful  dream 

But  you  and  your  own  little  dearie. 

And  when  I  am  tired  I'll  nestle  my  head 

In  the  bosom  that's  soothed  me  so  often. 
And  the  wide-awake  stars  shall  sing  in  my 

stead 
A  song  which  our  dreaming  shall  soften. 
So,  mother-my-love,   let    me   take  your  dear 
hand. 
And     away    through     the     starlight    we'll 
wander — 
Away  through  the  mist  to  the  beautiful  land, 
The  Dreamland  that's  waiting  out  yonder. 
— Eugene  Field. 


WELCOMING   HER   EXCELLENCY 

ON  the  arrival  of  their  Excellencies 
Earl  and  Lady  Grey  at  Govern- 
ment House,  Halifax,  on  Saturday, 
Dec.  loth,  the  Countess  was  presented 
with  an  address  by  the  National  Coun- 
cil of  Women  of  Canada.  Mrs.  R.  L. 
Borden,  in  the  absence  of  Mrs.  Thom- 
son, of  St.  John,  president  of  the 
National  Council,  read  the  address, 
and  Mrs.  Archibald,  on  behalf  of  the 
local  Council  of  Women  of   Halifax, 

280 


presented  a  bouquet  of  carnations  and 
pink  roses.  The  bouquet  was  accom- 
panied by  a  specially  bound  copy  of 
the  year  book  of  the  National  Council. 

After  the  graceful  welcome  and  intro- 
duction, Mrs.  Thomson  said  : 

•*'  Essentially  a  union  of  women 
workers  along  all  lines  of  philanthropic, 
charitable  and  educational  effort,  the 
National  Council  of  Women  knows 
no  barriers  of  class,  race  or  creed, 
imposes  on  its  members  no  restric- 
tions as  to  the  nature  of  the  tasks 
they  shall  undertake;  but,  recognising 
only  the  great  need  of  an  intelligent 
and  united  interest  in  whatever  makes 
for  the  highest  good  of  the  community, 
it  has  set  itself  to  study  the  best 
methods  of  work,  and  to  help,  if  pos- 
sible, to  solve  the  many  problems 
which  present  themselves  in  the  build- 
ing up  of  national  character.  We 
realise  that  the  foundations  must  be 
well  laid,  that  our  outlook  must  be  at 
once  broad  and  comprehensive,  and 
yet  quick  to  note  each  detail  that 
might  either  help  or  hinder.  Thus, 
while  each  society  or  group  of  societies 
has  its  own  special  work,  which  from 
the  very  nature  of  things  it  prefers  to 
do  in  its  own  special  manner,  the 
effect  of  the  correlation  of  these  socie- 
ties is  to  compare  methods,  to  broaden 
views,  to  deepen  and  quicken  interest, 
while  we  seek  to  apply  the  golden  rule: 
'*  Do  unto  others  as  ye  would  they 
should  do  unto  you,"  to  society,  custom 
and  law. 

"Such,  then,  in  brief,  are  the  aims 
of  the  National  Council  of  Women  of 
Canada,  and  very  gratefully  do  they 
acknowledge  to-day  a  lasting  debt  of 


WOMAN'S  SPHERE 


281 


A  CURLING  SCENE   IN   MONTREAL 


gratitude  to  the  noble  women  who 
have  bee'n  your  Excellency's  prede- 
cessors: the  Countess  of  Aberdeen, 
who,  by  her  active  and  never-failing' 
interest  in  Canadian  women,  inspired 
them  by  precept  and  example  to  this 
patriotic  service;  and  also  Lady  Minto, 
whose  valuable  work  in  establishing 
cottage  hospitals  will  be  her  lasting 
memorial. 

*'  We  hope  that  Your  Excellency 
will  befriend  us  in  no  less  degree;  we 
have  heard  much  of  your  public  spirit 
and  valuable  services  in  the  mother- 
land, and  we  welcome  your  coming 
among  us,  one  to  whom  we  may  look 
with  confidence  as  a  leader  in  all  that 
makes  for  the  highest  good  of  Cana- 
dian women.  And,  if  we  may  say  so, 
as  a  comrade  who  will  work  with  us 
for  our  beloved  country. 

"  We  desire  to  extend  a  most  sin- 
cere and  respectful  greeting  to  His 
Excellency  the  Governor-General,  and 
to  your  daughters,  and  to  bid  you  all 
a  very  hearty  welcome." 

The  address  was  signed  by  Emma 
Jones,  honorary   vice-president  of  the 


National  Council  of  Women  for  Ca- 
nada; Laura  Borden,  vice-president  of 
the  National  Council  of  Women  for 
Nova  Scotia;  Joanna  M.  Daly,  life 
member  of  the  Council  for  Canada, 
and  Edith  J.  Archibald,  president  of 
the  Local  Council  of  Halifax. 

Lady  Grey  expressed  her  thanks  for 
the  cordial  welcome  extended  her  by 
the  women  of  Canada.  She  said  she 
had  already  heard  a  great  deal  of  the 
work  of  the  National  Council,  and  now 
hoped  to  be  able  to  see  it  for  herself. 
She  was  anxious  to  co-operate  with 
them  in  their  endeavour  for  the  greater 
well-being  of  the  country,  and  would 
give  her  best  work  to  them. 

• 
THE   WHITE   SLAVE    TRAFFIC 

THE  National  Council  of  Women 
for  Canada  has  indeed  a  great 
work  in  hand.  It  has  already  accom- 
plished much,  but  the  greatest  thing 
it  has  ever  attempted  it  is  just  begin- 
ning now,  in  conjunction  with  the 
other  eighteen  National  Councils  of 
the  world.     This  is  an  organised  effort 


282 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


to  cope  with  the  gfreat  organised  white- 
slave traffic.  "Its  proportions  are 
awful,"  said  Mrs.  Willoughby  Cum- 
mings,  the  secretary  of  the  Interna- 
tional Council,  "and  our  people — our 
mothers  and  fathers  and  daughters — 
are  entirely  ignorant  of  it.  In  Canada 
the  trade  has  not  reached  such  a  height 
as  it  has  on  the  continent,  but  it  is  bad 
even  here.  And  the  only  thing  we  can 
do  at  present  is  to  give  warning  to 
everybody.  The  '  white  slave  '  dealers 
are  organised  as  perfectly  as  any  in- 
surance company,  and  their  methods 
are  constantly  changing.  For  instance, 
one  of  our  own  Toronto  papers  re- 
cently inserted  an  ordinary  ad.  for  a 
governess.  A  well-educated,  refined 
girl  from  near  Guelph  answered,  was 
accepted,  and  received  directions.  On 
her  arrival  here  she  was  met  at  the 
station,  and  has  completely  disap- 
peared. Not  a  trace  of  her  can  be 
found,  although  the  policemen  have 
been  working  hard  on  the  case.  The 
clerk  at  the  office  who  took  in  the 
want  ad.  remembers  perfectly  the  well- 
dressed  woman  who  brought  it  in  in  a 
businesslike  way,  but  no  trace  of  her 
can  be  found.  The  address  given  the 
unfortunate  girl  is  a  vacant  lot  here." 

The  national  and  local  councils  of 
these  strong,  earnest  women  are  ask- 
ing all  girls  who  contemplate  leaving 
home  to  write  to  them  before  taking  any 
step.  Any  member  will  find  out  if  the 
offer  of  a  situation  is  genuine,  and  will 
report  immediately.  "We  will  not 
spare  ourselves,"  Mrs.  Cummings 
continued,  "  until  we  can  down  this 
awful  work.  A  friend  of  mine  has 
told  me  of  two  young  ladies,  acquaint- 
ances of  hers,  who  were  crossing  the 
channel  from  France  with  their  aunt 
and  footman.  On  their  trip  they  be- 
came naturally  acquainted  with  an 
exceedingly  gentle  and  well-bred 
woman,  even  the  aunt  admiring  her 
and  being  drawn  to  her.  Before  tak- 
ing the  train  at  Dover  the  lady  re- 
marked casually:  "  My,  I  would  like 
a  cup  of  te'a,  but  do  not  want  to  go 
into  the  eating-room  alone.  Would 
you  come  with  me?"  The  two  young 
ladies  politely  acquiesced.     When  the 


train  began  to  move  out  the  footman, 
who  was  waiting  on  the  platform,  de- 
cided he  had  missed  his  charges,  and 
boarded  the  platform.  The  most  un- 
tiring efforts  of  police  and  frantic  rel- 
atives have  failed  to  gain  any  clew  of 
the  whereabouts  of  the  vanished  girls. 

These  cases  are  out  of  many  and 
many  that  the  noble  Council  of  Women 
have  undertaken.  Owing  to  their  well- 
organised  methods  they  can  quickly 
communicate  with  each  other,  making 
a  circuit  of  the  whole  globe.  They 
are  to  be  thanked  for  the  passing  of 
the  anti-spitting  by-law,  and  are  now 
seeing  some  success  in  the  enforcing 
of  the  clause.  "It  is  not  a  small 
thing,"  the  international  secretary 
said,  "for  by  expectoration  alone 
consumption  is  spread."  Inside  of 
half  an  hour  Mrs.  Cummings  had 
answered  the  telephone  some  fifteen 
times,  interviewed  a  young  English- 
woman who  had  carried  her  baby  with 
her  to  find  work,  secured  her  a  good 
place  by  'phone,  given  her  specific 
directions  and  matronly  advice,  and 
had,  besides  divulging  a  fund  of  infor- 
mation, helped  a  Salvation  Army 
officer  to  locate  a  lost  comrade. 

"I  am  very  much  worried,"  she 
said,  • '  over  a  woman  I  lost  some  weeks 
ago.  She  had  come  out  from  Eng- 
land through  the  Canadian  Labour 
Agency,  and,  with  her  baby,  had 
remained  for  the  night  at  the  Y.  M.  C.  A. 
I  found  her  a  good  place  with  a  friend 
of  mine,  left  word  for  her,  and  she 
completely  disappeared,  with  the  baby. 
Her  name  was  Mrs.  Punter.  At  last 
I  have  had  to  communicate  with  the 
police,  although  I  was  deterred  for 
some  time  out  of  a  fear  of  hurting  her 
feelings  if  she  had  taken  a  little  room 
anywhere.  The  police  have  not  yet 
found  her." 

Any  organisation  may  send  a  repre- 
sentative to  the  Local  Councils;  or,  if 
a  society  have  a  membership  compris- 
ing women  or  men  and  women  liv- 
ing in  different  parts  of  the  province, 
it  may  send  a  member  and  delegates 
to  the  National  Council  of  Canada. 
The  International  Council,  which  met 
at  Winnipeg  last  year,   has    been  in- 


WOMAN'S  SPHERE 


283 


vited  to  Canada  for  its  next  gathering, 
and  will  be  held  at  Charlottetown, 
Prince  Edward  Island,  in  July. 

B.J.  T. 

• 

CHURCH    MARRIAGES 

THERE  is  a  great  deal  of  significance 
in  the  adoption  by  the  Anglican 
synod  recently  convened  in  Vancouver 
of  a  motion  prohibiting  marriages  in 
private  houses  instead  of  in  churches. 
Marriage,  in  Canada  at  least,  is  a  sacred 
thing,  and  the  churchmen  have  realised 
that  it  was  befitting  to  sanctify  the 
outward  union  of  '*  whom  God  hath 
joined  together  "  in  the  holy  precincts 
of  the  church.  There  are  exceptional 
cases,  of  course,  where  it  seems  neces- 
sary and  best  for  the  bride  to  enter  her 
new  sphere  from  the  protecting  walls 
of  her  maiden  home,  and  these  are  not 
overlooked,  but  may  be  allowed  by 
special  permission  of  the  bishop. 

B.J.T. 

• 

A  VALUABLE    RING 

COMBINED  with  a  real  fund  of 
inexhaustible  humour.  Rev.  J.  E. 
Stackhouse,  Baptist  Missionary  for  the 
Northwest,  possesses  the  feeling  and 
magnetism  that  so  often  go  with  real 
humour.  He  was  preaching  recently 
in  the  Jarvis  Street  Baptist  Church  at 
Toronto.  His  subject  was  Consecra- 
tion. 

"A  year  ago,  when  I  was  in  Ayl- 
mer, "  he  said  at  the  close,  "I  was 
speaking  on  the  needs  of  missions  in 
the  Northwest,  and  met  a  motherless 
little  deformed  girl.  Her  father,  in 
the  West,  was  unable  to  support  her, 
and,  in  spite  of  her  deformity,  she  was 
making  her  own  living.  Moved  by 
the  appeal,  she  offered  me  her  diamond 
ring — the  gift  of  her  dead  mother.  I 
refused  to  take  it,  but  she  insisted. 
Finally  I  took  it,  and  went  to  a  jewel- 
ler's with  it.  He  offered  me  twenty 
dollars  for  the  ring,  but  this  I  refused. 
No — "  he  broke  in,  suddenly,  produc- 
ing the  ring  in  the  pulpit  and  holding 
it  up  to  the  light,  "  I  determined  that, 
instead  of  selling  this  ring,  I  would 
raise  $2,000  with  it  for  Western  Mis- 


sions. Already  I  have  raised  over 
$1,900.  Perhaps  I  shall  get  the  bal- 
ance of  the  $2,000  here  to-night." 

And  when  the  service  was  over 
donors  came  forward  by  the  score, 
and  the  total  amount  put  in  the  plate 
held  by  Mr.  Stackhouse  was  $288. 

The  ring  was  returned  to  the  little 
girl  the  next  day. 

Verily,  "  How  great  a  matter  a  lit- 
tle fire  kindleth." 


PRESENTATION   TO    LADY   MINTO 

IT  was  a  nice  thing — the  giving  of 
a  diamond  maple  leaf  to  Lady 
Minto  on  her  leaving  Canada.  The 
citizens  of  Ottawa  could  not  have 
thought  of  a  more  befitting  souvenir 
from  "the  land  of  the  maple."  Aside 
from  its  intrinsic  value,  the  leaf  is  of 
beautiful  form  and  emblematic.  When 
her  scheme  for  establishing  lending 
libraries  in  the  Northwest,  a  proposal 
which  has  been  adopted  and  will  be 
put  into  operation  as  soon  as  the 
details  are  perfected,  is  in  working 
order,  the  people  of  Canada  will  have 
a  very  tangible  and  immense  souvenir 
of  Lady  Minto.  The  libraries  will  be 
supplied  by  the  Victoria  League, 
through  the  Aberdeen  Association. 
The  Victoria  League,  of  which  Mrs. 
Drummond  is  the  London  president  of 
the  Canadian  branch,  is  an  English 
organisation  for  supplying  good  Eng- 
lish literature  to  the  sparsely-settled 
districts  of  the  colonies,  and  it  is  the 
main  source  of  the  supply  of  the  cen- 
tral branch  of  the  Aberdeen  Associa- 
tion. 

• 

Lead  lives  of  love,  that  others  who 
behold  your  lives  may  kindle,  too,  with 
Jove,  and  cast  their  lots  with  you. 

ROSETTI. 

• 

O  g'ive  to  us  a  liner  ear 

Above  the  stormy  din! 
We,  too,  would  hear  the  bells  of  cheer 
Ring  peace  and  freedom  in. 

— Whittier. 
• 

A  kind  word  often  does  more  good 
than  a  large  gift. 


NEW  Governor-General 
may  mean  much  to  Canada, 
or  he  may  mean  little. 
There  were  days  when  the 
Governor  was  everything 
to  a  North  American  Colony.  Governor 
Simcoe  and  Sir  Isaac  Brock  were  the 
men  who  made  Ontario.  There  would 
have  been  a  province  here,  and  there 
would  have  been  people  here,  had 
these  two  men  never  visited  this  part 
of  America,  but  it  would  not  have  been 
the  Province  of  Ontario,  a  part  of 
His  Majesty's  world-wide  Dominions. 
Later  on,  Lord  Elgin  meant  much  to 
the  Province  of  Canada,  Governor 
Douglas  to  the  colony  of  British 
Columbia,  and  other  governors  to 
other  colonies.     These  men  were  real 


SIR    HENRI    TASCHEREAU 

Chief- Justice  of  Canada,  and  acting  Governor- 
General  pending  the  arrival  of  Earl  Grey. 


leaders,  active  organisers,  creative 
statesmen. 

To-day  the  governor- general  is  shorn 
of  much  of  his  power  and  of  some  of 
his  influence.  He  has  come  to  be  little 
more  than  a  link  between  the  loyalty 
and  royalty  of  Canada  and  Great 
Britain.  His  influence  is  indirect.  He 
openly  advocates  no  political  policy 
except  that  which  his  Cabinet  approve. 
Yet  he  may  have  an  Imperial  policy, 
not  necessarily  political,  which  he  both 
advocates  and  supports.  Lord  Minto 
had,  and  he  won  a  great  victory  at  a 
critical  period  in  the  Empire's  history. 

That  Earl  Grey  will  prove  to  be  any 
less  an  influence  than  Dufferin,  Aber- 
deen or  Minto,  is  not  to  be  expected. 
A  man  who  has  been  associated  with 
great  Imperial  colonists,  as  Earl  Grey 
was  with  the  Cecil  Rhodes  group,  and 
who  has  seen  several  examples  of  the 
successful  extension  of  Imperial  power, 
should  be  at  least  as  potent  as  men 
with  even  less  colonial  experience. 

Earl  Grey  arrived  at  Halifax  on 
December  loth,  and  was  duly  installed 
in  his  office.  He  at  once  expressed 
the  feeling  that  the  loyalty  of  Canada 
was  acknowledged  throughout  the 
world  as  one  of  the  brightest  jewels  in 
the  British  Crown.  To  increase  the 
lustre  of  that  jewel  would  be  his  ambi- 
tion while  in  Canada.  In  a  word,  he 
will  follow  the  lines  struck  by  his  pre- 
decessors, and  he  will  endeavour  to 
gain  the  confidence  of  Canadians  by 
courtesy,  generosity  and  force  of 
character,  so  that  his  influence  may  be 
used  to  forward  what  is  thought  to  be 
the  best  interests  of  Canada,  the  great 
interests  of  the  Empire,  and — will  it 
be  too  bold  to  say  ? — the  highest  inter- 
ests of  western  civilisation. 

Was  there  ever  knight-errant  of  old 
charged  with  more  magnificent,  more 


PEOPLE  AND  AFFAIRS 


28;; 


lofty  commission  ?  Was  there  ever  a 
poet  or  philosopher  with  a  mightier 
conception  of  patriotic  service  ?  Truly 
the  steel-kings,  the  bankers,  the 
monopoly-mongers  of  the  world  seem 
but  as  chattering  school-boys  compared 
with  the  men,  such  as  governors  and 
diplomats,  who  mould  the  destinies  of 
races. 

WORK   FOR    HIS   EXCELLENCY 

THERE  is  one  point  to  which 
His  Excellency's  attention  might 
reasonably  be  directed  :  the  absence 
of  British  literature  in  this  country. 
If  he  w^ill  visit  the  book-stores  in 
Ottawa,  glance  over  the  reading-table 
in  the  Rideau  Club,  or  visit  the  libraries 
of  that  city's  prominent  citizens,  he 
will  find  an  almost  entire  absence  of 
British  weeklies  and  monthlies.  If  he 
asks  why  these  are  not  displayed  or 
taken,  the  answer  will  be  that  they 
cannot  be  procured.  The  reason  for 
this  lies  in  the  exorbitant  rate  levied 
by  the  British  Post  Office  on  all  exports 
of  British-made  reading  matter.  In 
Canada  sealed  letters  may  be  mailed 
for  two  cents  an  ounce,  or  eight  cents 
a  pound.  This  is  exactly  the  rate 
charged  by  the  British  Post-office  on 
magazines  or  weeklies  mailed  to  out- 
lying portions  of  the  Empire.  .-K  pound 
of  magazines  means  only  one  or  two 
parcels ;  a  pound  of  letters  means 
eight  or  more  parcels,  and  requires 
much  more  handling  and  greater  speed 
in  transportation.  Erom  this  it  is  easy 
to  see  that  the  rate  should  vary  in 
favour  of  the  bulkier  article. 

Then,  of  course,  there  is  the  ques- 
tion of  British  sentiment.  If  that  is  to 
be  maintained  in  this  country,  there 
must  be  British  information.  There 
must  be  a  knowledge  of  what  Great 
Britain  is  doing  and  aiming  at,  both 
at  home  and  abroad.  The  younger 
generation  must  be  kept  interested  in 
the  affairs  of  the  Empire. 

The  British  authorities  have  been 
appealed  to  again  and  again;  the  sub- 
ject has  been  discussed  several  times 
in  a  perfunctory  manner  in  the  British 
House  of  Commons,  but  nothing  has 


HON.    ARTHl'R    PETKRS,    K.C. 

Premier  of  Prince  Edward  Island.     The  recent 
Bkctaoa  ia  that  Province  went  in  his  favour. 

been  done.  His  Excellency's  influence 
might  be  considerable  in  this  most 
urgent  of  reforms. 

A  step  in  the  right  direction  has 
recently  been  made  by  the  Toronto 
News  Co.,  which  is  now  under  the 
guidance  of  an  energetic  and  broad- 
minded  Canadian.  This  is  the  intro- 
duction of  special  Canadian  editions  of 
The  Windsor  Magazine,  the  Pall  Mall 
Magazine  and  IVeldon" s  Journal. 


LOUD  TALK 

THERE  is  one  point  in  the  address 
presented  to  His  Excellency  Lord 
Grey  by  the  Nova  Scotian  people  to 
which  exception  might  be  taken.  It 
says: 

'*  We  look  forward  confidently  to 
the  time  when  the  development  of 
our  country,  which  is  now  proceeding 
so  rapidly,  will  equal,  if  it  does  not 
surpass,  that  of  the  great  country  to 
the  south." 


286 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


HON.    S.    N.    PARENT 

Premier  of  Quebec,  whose  following  were  successful  in 
the  recent  general  election  in  that  Province. 


It  is  well  for  Canadians  to  be  proud 
and  confident,  but  there  is  an  over- 
confidence  to  be  avoided.  There  is  no 
reason  why  we  should  wish  the  prog- 
ress of  the  United  States  to  cease. 
Let  us  rather  wish  them  well  in  the 
grand  work  which  they  are  doing. 
There  is  no  need  of  comparing  the 
two  countries.  Each  has  different 
ideals,  different  methods  and  different 
problems.  Let  us  accept  this  differ- 
ence and  work  out  our  own  destiny 
without  reference  to  theirs. 

In  his  annual  address  to  Congress, 
President  Roosevelt  was  guilty  of  a 
similar  over-stepping  of  the  mark. 
The  following  paragraph  contains  a 
most  objectionable  principle,  one  to 
which  Canada  should  decidedly  object: 

"  It  is  not  true  that  the  United  States  feels 
any  land  hunger  or  entertains  any  projects  as 
reg-ards  the  other  nations  of  the  western 
hemisphere,  save  such  as  are  for  their  wel- 
fare. All  that  this  country  desires  is  to  see 
the  neighbouring-  countries  stable,  orderly 
and  prosperous.  Any  country  whose  people 
conduct  themselves  well  can  count  upon  our 
hearty  friendship.  If  a  nation  shows  that  it 
knows  how  to  act  with  reasonable  efficiency 
and  decency  in  social  and  political  matters,  if 
it  keeps  order  and  pays  its  obligations,  it  need 
fear  no  interference  from   the   United  States. 


Chronic  wrong-doing,  or  an  impotence  which 
results  in  a  general  loosening  of  the  ties  of 
civilised  society  may,  in  America  as  else- 
where, ultimately  require  intervention  by 
some  civilised  nation,  and  in  the  western 
hemisphere  the  adherence  of  the  United 
States  to  the  Monroe  Doctrine  may  force  the 
United  States,  however  reluctantly,  in  flagrant 
cases  of  such  wrong-doing  or  impotence,  to 
the  exercise  of  an  international  police  power." 

If  Canada  were  to  say  to  the  United 
States  that  if  lynching  and  lawlessness 
were  not  immediately  suppressed  we 
would  be  compelled  to  ask  Great 
Britain  to  interfere  in  our  behalf,  there 
would  be  a  royal  row. 


THE  Province  of  Ontario  has  been 
disgraced  several  times  in  recent 
years  by  interference  with  the  sanctity 
of  the  ballot-box  and  by  a  general 
looseness  of  political  methods.  The 
people  of  the  other  provinces  have 
been  somewhat  shocked  by  these  pro- 
ceedings in  the  premier  province  of  the 
Dominion,  and  the  provincial  reputa- 
tion has  been  rudely  shattered  at  its 
political  point. 

These  evils,  however,  are  not  gen- 
eral, and  the  recent  exposures  are 
likely  to  lead  to  a  genuine  reform  in 
political  methods.  Political  partisan- 
ship does  little  harm  where  the  leaders 
of  the  parties  are  animated  by  un- 
selfish and  patriotic  ambitions,  but 
when  the  opposite  occurs  it  is  detri- 
mental to  the  best  interests  of  demo- 
cratic institutions.  There  is  less  likely 
to  be  political  partisanship  in  the  vot- 
ing at  the  general  provincial  election 
which  is  to  be  held  on  January  25th. 
The  prospects  are  that  the  verdict  ot 
the  election  will  be  that  men  with  high 
political  principles,  men  with  clean, 
patriotic  motives  will  alone  be  toler* 
ated  as  members  of  a  Legislature 
which  should  be  among  the  best  of  the 
parliaments  of  the  world.  The  only 
difficulty  in  the  way  of  a  clear  render- 
ing of  that  verdict  is  that  it  is  often 
difficult  to  find  political  uprightness 
and  constructive  statesmanship  in  one 
and  the  same  set  of  individuals. 


John  A.   Cooper 


Mew 


THE    PROSPECTOR 

TH  E  success  of  Ralph  Connor's  books 
has  been  pleasing  to  every  lover 
of  Canadian  literature.  No  one  be- 
grudges him  the  fame  to  which  he  has 
come,  or  his  share  of  the  profits  which 
follow  in  the  wake  of  successful  novels. 
He  has  thrown  some  light  upon  phases 
of  our  life  which  were  waiting  for  the 
interpretation  of  the  artist.  He  has 
given  us  pen-pictures  which  must 
henceforth  be  part  of  the  national  heri- 
tage, which  must  hereafter  be  reckoned 
with  our  historical  documents,  our 
archaeological  and  ethnological  speci- 
mens and  relics,  our  memories  of 
national  struggles  and  national  heroes, 
our  crude  art  productions — with,  in 
short,  all  the  tangible  and  intangible 
records  of  our  national  history,  de- 
velopment and  progress.  His  pictures 
of  Glengarry  life  and  his  pictures  of 
missionary  life  in  the  foothills  country 
are  essentially  characteristic.  Both 
fields  were  practically  virgin  when  he 
began  his  explorations.  He  is  not 
called  upon  to  share  his  credit  with 
any  other  writer.  "  Pierre  and  His 
People"  touched  some  phases  of 
Western  life,  but  Parker  did  not  main- 
tain his  interest  in  that  field.  One  or 
two  of  W.  A.  Fraser's  short  stories 
are  strong  Western  pictures,  but  single 
pictures  are  not  to  be  compared 
with  a  series.  E.  R.  Voung  and  John 
McDougall  have  given  us  chronicles  of 
the  West,  but  not  interpretations. 
Ralph  Connor's  studies  of  the  West 
have  gone  farther  and  deeper  than  any 
of  his  co-workers. 

On  the  other  hand,  judged  by  such 
standards  as  have  been  erected  for  the 
guidance  of  novelists,  Ralph  Connor 
has  fallen  short.  His  pictures  are  over- 
coloured,  just  as  those  of  Roberts 
are  under-coloured.     His  contrasts  are 

»»7 


overdone,  just  as  Roberts'  are  under- 
done. His  dramatic  scenes  are  spoiled 
by  a  supra  sentimentalism  which  cloys. 
He  has  attempted  to  paint  manly  men, 
but  has  stepped  just  over  the  line  of 
common  sense  and  reason,  especially 
in  his  latest  work,  "The  Prospector."* 
Shock  McGregor  is  an  Apollo,  a  John 
Wesley  and  a  Livingstone  all  in  one. 
He  is  great  at  too  many  points.  There 
are  sky-pilots,  prospectors  for  the  souls 
of  men,  who  have  been  almost  ideal  in 
their  self-sacrifice,  devotion  and  single- 
mindedness.  Father  Mike  is  a  much 
truer  person  so  far  as  his  character 
is  shown.  The  "Superintendent"  is 
quite  a  natural  character;  so  are  Ike, 
The  Kid,  and  a  dozen  others.  Only 
"  Shock  "  is  too  good  to  be  true. 

In  much  the  same  way,  Mrs.  Fair- 
banks and  Lloyd,  the  Park  Church 
minister,  are  too  brutally  drawn. 
Surely  it  was  not  necessary  to  make 
the  mother  of  Shock  a  saint,  and  the 
mother  of  Helen,  Shock's  fiancee,  a 
pillar  of  stone.  There  is  no  reason  for 
the  e.xcessive  contrast.  The  white  is 
too  white  and  the  black  too  black. 
The  same  is  true  in  comparing  Shock 
with  Lloyd.  Both  are  ministers  of  the 
Gospel,  they  have  been  educated  at 
the  same  school,  their  early  environ- 
ment was  much  the  same  ;  why  should 
one  be  whitest  white,  and  one  blackest 
black?  Surely  there  is  no  "Lloyd" 
type  in  the  priesthood  of  any  Canadian 
Church!  The  difference  between  the 
two  men  is  explained  by  a  difference  in 
ideal — yet  surely  Ralph  Connor  will 
not  deny  that  a  man's  ideals  must  be 
affected  by  his  college  life.  Shock's 
was — why  not  Lloyd's  ? 

While  the  book  seems  open  to  criti- 
cism from  this  point  of  view,  yet  one 

*  "The  Prospector,"  by  Ralph  Connor.  To- 
ronto :    The  VVest minster  Co.    Cloih,  401  pp. 


288 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


cannot  say  that  it  were  better  un- 
written. Canada  to-day  needs  many 
Prospectors,  such  as  Shock  McGregor, 
to  go  out  upon  the  frontiers  and  search 
for  the  men  who  are  continually  drift- 
ing beyond  the  reach  of  civilisation 
and  religious  influence.  For  many 
years  to  come,  the  work  will  require 
such  men,  for  the  settlements  are  ever 
encroaching  upon  the  wilderness.  If 
the  story  impresses  upon  the  people  in 
the  older  districts  the  importance  of 
this  work,  if  it  will  enthuse  a  constant 
stream  of  young  volunteers  for  the 
field,  it  will  have  done  a  grand  work. 
If  it  is  not  a  perfect  work  in  its  con- 
struction, it  is  nevertheless  ideal  in  its 
intention. 

Just  here  may  be  remarked  the 
striking  similarity  of  the  appeal  made 
by  Norman  Duncan  in  "Doctor  Luke 
of  the  Labrador,"  and  by  Ralph  Connor 
in  "The  Prospector."  As  a  novelist, 
the  on©  is  easily  superior  to  the  other; 
as  men,  they  are  both  to  be  loved  and 
respected.  Away  to  the  East,  they 
need  doctors  and  clergymen  ;  away  to 
the  Northwest,  they  need  churches 
and  hospitals  and  men  who  will  voice 
the  truth.  Both  writers  are  actuated 
by  the  highest  motives.  They  have 
lived  on  the  frontiers  and  felt  the  need. 
Their  appeals  for  the  brave  people  who 
are  extending  our  boundaries  should 
not  fall  on  deaf  ears. 


THE    MASQUERADER* 

WHILE  "The  Masquerader,"  by  Ka- 
therine  Cecil  Thurston,  was  running 
in  Blackwood's,  it  made  quite  a  sensa- 
tion. It  aroused  an  almost  breathless 
interest  because  of  its  seeming  impossi- 
bility, and  because  of  the  strangeness 
of  the  problems  with  which  it  attempted 
to  deal.  Two  men,  looking  very  much 
alike,  meet  by  accident  in  a  London 
fog.  The  one  is  married,  a  member  of 
Parliament,  and  prominent  in  society. 
The  other  is  a  bachelor  whose  life  has 
not  yet  opened  definitely.  The  former 
is  addicted  to  the  morphine  habit,  and 

*  "The  Masquerader,"  by  K.  C.  Thurston. 
Toronto  :  The  Poole  Publishing  Co.  New 
York  :   Harper  and  Brothers. 


is  tired  of  the  strong  part  he  is  com- 
pelled to  play  in  life;  the  other  would 
like  to  play  a  strong  part,  but  has 
never  had  the  chance.  They  meet 
again,  and  agree  to  exchange  places. 
The  bachelor  plays  his  new  role  well, 
and  falls  in  love  with  the  other  man's 
wife.  The  complications  are  exciting, 
entrancing.     The  sequel  is  dramatic. 

There  is  nothing  very  elevating  in 
the  story,  but  it  is  certain  to  hold  the 
interest  of  any  one  who  is  reading 
for  amusement  and  excitement.  The 
author's  purpose  is  nothing  more  than 
this,  and  is  wonderfully  accomplished. 

WHO    DISCOVERED    THE    NORTH- 
WEST ? 

IN  the  latest  Canadian  history,  that 
of  Mr.  Duncan,  of  Winnipeg,  there 
isaparagraph  entitled,  "Marquette  and 
Joliet  discover  the  Mississippi,  1673." 
In  Clement's  school  history  the  para- 
graph headed  "  Discovery  of  the  Mis- 
sissippi "  deals  only  with  the  explora- 
tions of  Marquette  and  Jolliet.  Cal- 
kin's school  history  does  the  same; 
Roberts'  history  gives  the  same  story, 
the  same  impression.  Turning  to  the 
more  authoritative  works  we  find  that 
Kingsford  decides  (Vol.  I,  p.  399)  that 
Jolliet  (he  uses  two  I's)  was  the  dis- 
coverer of  that  great  river.  He  says 
the  honour  has  been  claimed  for  La 
Salle,  but  that  he  had  seen  only  the 
Ohio  and  did  not  know  that  it  was  a 
tributary  of  the  Mississippi.  Kings- 
ford  here  takes  the  same  ground  as 
Parkman  did  in  his  volume,  "  La  Salle 
and  the  Discovery  of  the  Great  West." 
Parkman,  however,  mentions  that  in 
1658-59  Radisson  and  Groseilliers 
penetrated  the  regions  west  of  Lake 
Superior  and  reached  the  Forked 
River,  but  passes  over  the  occurrence 
either  as  not  to  be  believed  or  as  of 
little  importance.  Kingsford  ignores 
these  two  explorers. 

And  now  comes  a  slim-waisted 
woman,  once  a  journalist  in  Winnipeg, 
now  an  author  of  note  living  near  New 
York,  who  says  that  these  historians 
are  all  a  pack  of  fools;  that  they  do  not 
know  their   business;  that  Marquette 


ABOUT  NEW  BOOKS 


289 


and  Jolliet  were  not  the  pathfind- 
ers of  the  West  (she  herself  puts 
the  italics  at  this  point).  Truly 
this  is  startling.  Must  we  all  go 
to  schoolagain — and  to  a  "school- 
marm?"  Here  is  a  quotation  from 
the  "Foreword"  to  her  new  book, 
"  Pathfinders  of  the  West."* 

"The  question  will  at  once  occur  why 
no  mention  \s  made  of  Marquette  and 
Jolliet  (two  Is,  mark  youl]  and  La  Salle 
in  a  work  on  the  Pathfinders  of  the 
West.  The  simple  answer  is — they 
were  not  pathfinders.  Contrary  to  the 
notions  imbibed  at  school,  and  repeated 
in  all  the  histories  of  the  West,  Mar- 
quette, Jolliet  and  La  Salle  did  not  dis- 
cover the  vast  region  beyond  the  Great 
Lakes.  Twelve  years  before  these  ex- 
plorers had  thoujjht  of  visiting  ihelaiul 
which  the  French  hunter  designated  as 
the  Pays  den  Haut,  the  West  had  al- 
ready been  discovered  by  the  most  in- 
trepid z'oyageurs  that  France  producetl 
— men  whose  wide-ranging  explorations 
exceeded  the  achievements  of  Cartici 
and  Champlain  and  La  Sallt-  put  tv>- 
gether." 

Was  there  ever  a  more  start- 
ling paragraph  ? 

For  over  two  hundred  years  the 
English-speaking  world  and  the 
French-speaking  world  have  been 
betraying  a  dense  ignorance,  and 
it    was    left  to   a   little  slip  of  a 
woman  to  unravel   the    error  of 
the    centuries!      What     a     wonderful 
woman  she  must  be  !     Surely  there  will 
be  large  excursions  of  Canadians  down 
to  Wildwood    Place,.  Wassaic,   N.V., 
to  see  this  resourceful  person!     Surely 
there  will  soon  be  another  monument 
on  Parliament  Hill! 

In  her  dedication  of  the  book,  she 
says:  "  I  assume  all  responsibility  for 
upsetting  the  apple-cart  of  established 
opinions  by  this  book"!  This  she 
says  to  Mr.  Benjamin  Suite,  President 
Royal  Society,  Ottawa,  Canada.  How 
relieved  Mr.  Suite  must  be! 

Just  in  passing,  it  maybe  mentioned 
that  on  p.  85,  Miss  Laut  consents  to 
leave  Columbus  in  undisturbed  posses- 
sion of  his  laurels,  being  content  to  put 
Radisson  second  in  her  Hall  of  F"ame. 

•Pathfinders  of  the  West,  by  .Agnes  C. 
Laut.  Illustrated,  cloth,  380  pp.  Toronto: 
William  Briggs. 


RALPH  CONNOR 

mi:    BRETHRE.V 

RIDER  HAGGARD,  whose  romance 
of  the  crusades,  "The  Brethren," 
has  just  been  brought  out  here  by 
The  Copp,  Clark  Co.,  will,  of  course, 
always  be  considered  a  romancistonly, 
by  the  general  public,  because  of  the 
great  popularity  of  his  "King  Solo- 
mon's Mines,"  "  She,"  etc.  But  Mr. 
Haggard's  activities  are  very  wide  in- 
deed; and  those  who  look  at  the  list  of 
his  works  catalogued  opposite  the  title- 
page  of  his  new  book  will  find  him 
credited  with  nearly  thirty  volumes, 
not  all  romances,  by  any  manner  of 
means.  There  is  a  volume  of  political 
history  dealing  with  South  Africa,  two 
works  on  agriculture  and  country  life, 
"Rural  England"  and  "A  Farmer's 
Year,"  a  book  of  travel,  and  then  the 
novels  and  the  romances. 

Mr.  Haggard  is  carrying  on  a  propa- 


290 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


RIDER    HAGGARD 

ganda  for  small  farm  holdings,  for 
village  banks  and  for  an  agricultural 
parcels  post,  things  which  in  his 
opinion  and  in  the  opinion  of  a  great 
many  of  the  economists  of  England 
will  go  far  towards  saving  the  country. 
Mr.  Haggard  is  working  not  only  in 
the  interest  of  the  farmer,  but  also  in 
the  interest  of  the  city  people.  He  is 
passionately  keen  in  his  endeavour  to 
counteract  what  he  calls  the  town 
fever,  and  to  persuade  people  to  live 
in  the  country  rather  than  in  the  city. 
One  of  his  strongest  arguments  is 
based  on  the  hardships  which  children 
in  England  have  to  suffer  because  of 
the  over  population  of  the  cities.  It 
appears  that  ip  Birmingham  there  are 
six  thousand  children  who  go  to  school 
breakfastless,  and  there  were  thirty- 
nine  proven  cases  of  death  by  starva- 
tion in  London  last  year. 


NOTES 

The  municipal  history  of  the  various 
provinces  has  been  a  subject  of  spe- 
cial investigation  for  some  time  by  S. 
Morley  Wickett,  Ph.D.,  lecturer  in 
Political  Economy  in  the  University  of 
Toronto.  He  has  just  issued  in  paper 
(50  cents)   a  volume   dealing  with  the 


Municipal  History  of  Quebec,  Mani- 
toba and  the  Northwest  Territories, 
an  admirable  companion  volume  to  his 
previous  publications,  which  dealt  with 
Ontario   and   the  Maritime   Provinces. 

Messrs.  Adam  &  Charles  Black,  of 
Soho  Square,  London,  have  just  issued 
new  editions  of  "Who's  Who," 
"  Who's  Who  Year  Book,"  and  "The 
Englishwoman's  Year  Book."  "  Who's 
Who "  is  a  large  volume  of  short 
biographies  of  the  leading  men  in 
Great  Britain  and  the  colonies.  It  is 
invaluable  as  a  work  of  reference. 
"Who's  Who  Year  Book"  is  a 
smaller  volume  which  merely  gives 
lists  of  names  and  addresses  of  mem- 
bers of  the  Governments,  professors, 
artists,  judges,  bishops  and  other 
prominent  people  (7s.  6d.)  "The 
Englishwoman's  Year  Book"  deals 
with  E)ducation,  Employments  and 
Professions,  Medicine,  Science,  Lit- 
erature, Art,  Music,  Sport,  Philan- 
thropy, and  other  public  work  in 
which  women  are  taking  more  and 
more  interest. 

The  latest  number  of  Acadiensis 
(St.  John,  N.B.)  contains  much  valu- 
able material  concerning  Champlain 
and  about  the  early  judges  of  New 
Brunswick.  This  is  an  excellent 
quarterly. 

The  New  Brunswick  Magazine  has 
been  revived,  and  should  be  on  fyle  in 
all  Canadian  libraries. 

Canadians  who  desire  to  keep  in 
touch  with  British  literature  will  be 
able  to  get  The  Windsor  Magazine  and 
The  Pall  Mall  Magazine  from  their 
booksellers  this  year  at  fifteen  cents  a 
copy.  The  English  editions  are  one 
shilling.  Weldon's  Journal,  that  excel- 
lent publication  for  women,  is  also 
available  here  at  ten  cents  a  copy, 
through  the  energy  of  the  Toronto 
News  Company.  AH  these  Canadian 
editions  are  uniform  with  the  English 
editions,  a  compliment  which  cannot 
be  paid  to  the  Canadian  edition  of 
Strand  and  Pearson's.  Among  the 
London  weeklies  which  should  specially 
interest  Canadians,  the  "Outlook"  and 
"  Public  Opinion"  may  be  specially 
mentioned. 


omen 


Is, 


ETIQUETTE, 

'T^HEY  are  telling  a  good  one  on  a 
•^  certain  aristocratic  young  Eng- 
lishman who  was  taken  to  witness  the 
joys  of  a  social  dance  at  one  of  the 
logging  centres  of  British  Columbia, 
the  "  assembly"  proving  something  of 
a  catch-as-catch-can  affair.  Yankee, 
Canuck,  French-Canadian,  Swede — all 
nations  were  represented  among  the 
gentlemen  dancers.  There  would  have 
been  a  woeful  shortage  of  ladies  but 
for  the  presence  of  a  number  of  dusky 
damsels  from  the  Reservation.  Warm- 
ing up  to  the  spirit  of  the  occasion,  the 
Englishman  onlooker  finally  ap- 
proached one  of  the  handkerchief- 
crowned  maidens  and  inquired  with 
cheerful  condescension,  "  Suppose  we 
dance  this  one?"  The  youthful  klootch- 
man  shrank  into  her  shawl  as  though 
to  emphasise  the  intense  frigidity  of 
her  reproof  to  the  presumptuous. 
*•  Halo  introduce,"  said  she. — Progress. 


CHRISTMAS  SCIENCE 

'*  Here's  a  scientist  who  says  that 
for  everything  that  goes  out,  there  is 
always  an  equivalent  to  balance  it 
exactly." 

"  Nonsense.  For  instance,  every- 
body gives  away  more  Christmas  pres- 
ents than  he  receives." — N.  V.  Life. 


THOUGHT  HE  WAS  AT  HOME 

An  Irishman  somewhat  under  the 
influence  of  liquor,  ambling  toward 
home  on  a  recent  evening,  happened 
to  pass  a  church,  and,  being  attracted 
by  the  sound  of  the  music,  paused  for  a 
while  and  then  staggered  toward  the 
entrance. 

With  his  natural  bump  of  caution, 


however,  he  looked  at  the  spire  to  see 
that  the  proper  kind  of  cross  was  on 
it,  for  to  the  mind  of  most  good  Cath- 
olics it  would  be  almost  a  sacrilege  to 
go  into  a  Protestant  church.  He  saw 
the  cross,  which  apparently  satisfied 
his  scruples,  and  he  went  in,  sitting 
down  in  a  pew  near  the  door. 

The  heat  being  somewhat  oppres- 
sive, he  fell  asleep. 

After  the  service  had  ended  the 
sexton  began  at  the  altar  to  turn  out 
the  lights. 

Coming  down  the  aisle  he  tripped 
over  the  foot  of  the  sleeping  man  in 
the  pew  and,  looking  down,  diagnosed 
the  case  in  a  moment. 

He  gave  the  sleeping  man  a  shake 
and  said:  "  See  here,  my  good  man, 
wake  up  and  get  out  of  here  at  once. 
You  are  in  the  wrong  place,  anyway — 
this  is  not  your  church." 

The  Irishman  sat  up,  rubbed  his 
eyes  and,  developing  an  argumenta- 
tive strain,  said  in  a  rather  thick  gut- 
tural voice: 

"  It  ain't  my  church?  Whose  church 
is  it  if  it  ain't  mine?" 

"This  is  the  Protestant  Episcopal 
church—" 

"  It's  no  such  thing!" 

•'  I  tell  you  it  is,  and  you  must  get 
out  of  here." 

He  straightened  himself  up,  and 
pointing  a  wavering  finger  toward  the 
altar,  said: 

"  Isn't  that  the  statue  of  St.  Joseph 
up  there  on  the  right?" 

The  sexton  was  forced  to  reply  in 
the  affirmative. 

"Ain't  that  the  Virgin's  statue  on 
the  left?" 

"Yes,"  replied  the  sexton. 

"  What  is  that  in  the  centre?" 

"  That  is  a  statue  of  our  Saviour." 

The  Irishman,  with  a  look   of  min- 


292 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


A    FELLOW-FEELING 


District  Visitor — "  I've  just  had  a  letter  from  my  son  Reggie,  saying  he  has  won  a 
ScholarsFiip.     I  can't  tell  you  how  delighted  I  am.     [I "] 

Rustic  Party— "I  can  understand  yer  feelings,  Mum.  I  felt  just  the  same  when  our 
Pig  won  a  Medal  at  the  Agricultural  Show!" — Punch. 


gled  triumph  and  contempt,  said,  look- 
ing the  sexton  as  nearly  in  the  eye  as 
he  could: 

"  For  Heaven's  sake,  whin  did  thim 
turn  Protestants?" — Lippincott's  Mag- 


THE   PLAYWRIGHT'S  COMPLAINT 

A  popular  author,  who  has  lately 
turned  to  playwriting,  has  not  suc- 
ceeded in  impressing  managers  with 
the  availability  of  his  productions. 
Not  long  ago,  thinking  to  get  some 
useful  pointers  from  the  current  drama, 
he  made  an  observation  tour  of  the 
theatres. 

"  Well,"  he  remarked  to  a  friend  at 
the  end  of  the  evening,  "  I  seem  to  be 
the  only  man  alive  who  can't  get  a 
poor  play  put  on." — Harper s    Weekly. 


rose  of  old  England,"  said  the  Eng- 
lishman. *'  Give  me  the  shamrock  of 
ould  Ireland,"  said  the  Irishman. 
"  Na,  na,"  said  the  Scotchman,  "the 
flower  of  my  country  is  the  best.  Ye 
may  sit  on  the  rose  and  the  shamrock, 
but  ye'U  no  sit  lang  on  the  thistle." 


Professor  William  James,  of  Har- 
vard, is  well-known  as  good  in  rep- 
artee as  in  a  lecture.  Not  long  ago  a 
sophomore  thought  he  was  extremely 
wise  and  expressed  some  atheistical 
views  before  Professor  James.  "Ah," 
said  the  professor,  "You  are  a  free 
thinker,  I  perceive.  You  believe  in 
nothing."  "  I  only  believe  what  I  can 
understand,"  the  sophomore  replied. 
"  It  comes  to  the  same  thing,  I  sup- 
pose," said  Professor  James. 


An  Englishman,  an  Irishman  and  a 
Scotchman  walking  along  a  country 
road  on  a  summer's  day  talked  of  their 
favourite  flowers:   "Give   me  the  red 


Lady:  "  Has  your  little  sister  got 
any  teeth?"  Little  Girl:  "  I  guess 
she's  got  'em,  but   she   ain't   hatched 

'em  yet." 


INDIAN  LIFE  IN  LABRADOR 

AN  interesting  sight  to  a  tourist  on 
the  Labrador  Coast  is  the  orig- 
inals of  the  accompanying  photograph. 
It  represents  a  group  of  squaws  and 
children  taken  on  their  arrival  from 
the  interior.  Though  they  look  scant- 
ily clad  for  winter,  they  are  dressed 
in  deer  skins  under  their  outer  clothing. 
Their  livelihood  is  gained  by  hunting 
different  furs.  They  start  out  in  July 
generally,  three  or  four  families  hunt- 
ing together,  taking  provisions  for 
part  of  the  year.  They  paddle  up  the 
rivers  in  small  canoes  made  from  birch 
bark  and  camp  along  the  banks,  where 
they  remain  eating  salmon  until  the 
snow  falls.  They  then  travel  further 
north,    carrying    their    provisions    on 


toboggans.  It  is  wonderful  to  see  the 
loads  some  of  the  squaws  and  even 
the  young  children  haul.  They  depend 
on  deer  meat  for  food,  and  frequently, 
when  unable  to  find  it,  one  or  two 
families  starve.  There  was  a  case 
only  last  winter.  After  having  separ- 
ated, one  family  at  last  found  deer; 
they  turned  back  to  their  comrades  in 
distress  to  find  them  all  dead  of  star- 
vation, except  one,  who  is  now  fully 
recovered.  The  next  picture  shows 
an  Indian  tent  in  the  background  and  a 
camp, in  frontof  which  is  seateda squaw 
watching  with  interest  the  actions  of 
a  graduate  of  the  Royal  Victoria  Hos- 
pital, Montreal,  who  is  feeling  her 
little  patient's  pulse.  The  little  suf- 
ferer has  been  seized  with  measles,  an 


t  tf  i^i^^^H 

/'Ajj 

2  ^^^^B  IL  h 

A   GROLP   OF    INDIAN    WOMEN    AND   CHILDREN    IN    LABRADOR 


294 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


A  NURSE  WORKING  AMONG  THE  INDIANS  OF  LABRADOR 


almost  always  fatal  disease  with  In- 
dian children,  but  thanks  to  her 
faithful  nurse  soon  recovered. 

Elise  Racey   Viel. 

A   FISH    STORY 


was  his  surprise  to  find  five  or 
six  small  fish  in  each  hole. 

"Now,  how," he  asked  every 
old  friend  to  whom  he  told  this 
puzzling  incident,  "did  they 
get  in  ?  Did  they  rain  down 
— an  utter  absurdity — or  did 
they  squeeze  through  the  solid 
ground  from  the  canal?" 

Until  the  day  of  his  death 
the  old  gentleman  told  of  this 
phenomenon.  Some  months  aft- 
erwards, however,  one  of  his 
sons,  a  jolly,  joking  fellow,  ex- 
plained that  he  had  been  fish- 
ing the  day  of  the  rain,  and  had 
carried  home  a  pail  offish  quite 
too  small  for  cooking.  He 
realised  this  on  reaching  his 
home,  and  wondered  what  to 
do  with  them.  Suddenly  he 
espied  the  postholes,  now  half- 
filled  with  water,  and  divided 
up  his  perch  in  them. 

' '  My  father, "  he  said  in  clos- 
ing, "was  so  interested  that  I 
did  not  have  the  heart  to  un- 
deceive him,  and  later,  when 
he  had  theorised  and  analysed  and 
'sciencised'  so  much  over  the  occur- 
rence, I  was  actually  afraid  to  tell  him. 
So  he  never  knew."  B.J.  T. 


A  CURIOUS  PROBLEM 


A    CONTRIBUTOR    to    a     recent  ^„^  ^  „      .  .  ,, 

^     number     of     the     Educational  XHE  followmg  curious  problem  was 

Review    tells    of   seeing    earth-worms  ^      propounded   at  a   recent  univer- 

by  the  hundred  lying  on   the  top    of  sity  dinner  in  Toronto: 


some  inches  of  snow.  They  were 
frozen  stiff  when  he  first  saw  them, 
but  it  was  a  thawing  day,  and  soon 
they  were  crawling  on  the  snow. 
"Can  you  explain  it?"  the  contributor 
asks.  The  Review  does  not  attempt 
to  account  for  it.  But,  even  aside 
from  the  fact  that  worms  border  closely 
on  to  snakes,  there  may  be  an  expla- 
nation. In  a  little  town  in  which  the 
writer  lived  for  a  number  of  years 
there  was  a  new  fence  contemplated  by 
a  neighbour.  The  postholes  were 
dug,  but  a  steady  rain  set  in  and  the 
workmen  left.  The  next  morning  when 
the  householder,  a  fine,  dignified  old 
man,  went  to  look  at  his  postholes,  what 


"Two  women  are  accustomed  to 
sell  apples  on  the  streets,  the  one 
giving  three  apples  for  a  cent  and  the 
other  two  for  a  cent.  It  chanced  one 
day  that  one  woman  fell  ill,  and  handed 
over  thirty  apples  to  the  other  to  sell 
for  her.  The  latter  had  thirty  apples 
to  start  with,  and  sold  the  sixty  apples 
at  five  for  two  cents,  receiving  24  cents 
in  all.  If  each  woman  had  sold  her 
thirty  apples  separately,  the  price  re- 
ceived would  have  been  25  cents. 
How  was  the  one  cent  lost?" 

The  best  solution  of  this  problem 
received  will  be  published  in  this 
department  next  month.  This  is  a 
chance  for  the  mathematicians. 


MADE    IN  AUSTRALIA 

[HE  latest  journals  from 
Australia  give  accounts  of 
a  campaign  organised  by 
the  Victoria  Chamber  o! 
Manufactures  and  other 
bodies  in  order  to  popularise  goods 
"made  in  Australia."  They  are  using 
the  same  arguments  there  that  are 
being  used  in  Canada.  The  speakers 
all  say  that  there  is  "a  prejudice 
against  home-made  goods,"  that  Aus- 
tralian buyers  prefer  imported  goods; 
and  they  proceed  to  urge  people  to 
ask  for  Australian  brands  and  makes. 
Australia  has  gone  much  farther 
than  Canada  in  its  protection  of  its 
home  trade  with  much  less  excuse.  In 
fact,  the  Canadian  policy  looks  to  be 
decidedly  conservative  in  comparison. 
They  are  not  near  to  any  great  adver- 
tisement-printing company  as  Canada 
is,  yet  they  put  a  tax  of  six  cents  a 
pound  on  all  periodicals  containing 
more  than  fifteen  per  cent,  of  advertis- 
ing. They  also  put  a  tax  on  trade 
catalogues  and  price-lists,  even  from 
Great  Britain. 

The  dayseems  fast  approaching  when 
the  British  manufacturer  will  be  able 
to  get  into  the  colonies  only  by  colo- 
nial "treaties"  or  "special  arrange- 
ments." The  colonies,  getting  no 
preference  for  their  products  in 
Great  Britain,  are  slowly  moving  to- 
wards "Canadian  goods  for  Canada," 
"Australian  goods  for  Australia,"  and 
"South  African  for  the  South  Afri- 
cans." Whether  Mr.  Chamberlain  is 
right  or  wrong  in  his  propaganda, 
there  is  no  doubt  that  he  and  many 
other  Englishmen  see  this  rising  tide 
of  industrial  independence.  The  major- 
ity of  the  people  of  Great  Britain  will 


not  likely  see  it  until  Canada  and 
Australia  have  asked  for  and  obtained 
their  independence. 


POLITICAL   APPOINTMENTS 

THE  system  of  appointing  aged  poli- 
ticians and  ex-members  of  parli- 
ament or  legislature  to  important 
positions  in  the  Civil  Service  is  being 
carried  far  in  this  country.  There 
are  many  protests  against  it,  and  this 
is  the  one  hopeful  sign.  The  following 
moderate  article  from  the  Montreal 
Gazette  is  a  sample  of  this: 

"Mr.  H.  S.-Harwood  will  make  as  g'ood  a 
postmaster  as  Montreal  has  had  in  recent 
years.  It  is,  however,  hardly  to  be  expected 
that  at  his  ag-e,  and  with  no  previous  training-, 
he  will  prove  to  be  the  official  the  post  re- 
quires. It  is,  in  a  way,  strange  that  a  public 
service,  in  which  the  business  public  is  so 
vitally  interested  as  that  of  the  post  office, 
should  be  left  practically  to  run  itself,  except 
for  such  directions  as  minor  officials,  limited 
in  their  powers,  are  able  to  give  it.  That  the 
Montreal  Post  Office  is  efficient  no  one  who 
has  had  much  to  do  with  it  will  pretend.  This 
must  not  be  taken  as  a  reflection  upon  the 
staff  generally.  It  has  probably  done  as  well 
as  could  be  expected  under  the  circum- 
stances. The  evidences  of  disorganisation 
and  of  inability  to  properly  handle  the  mail 
matter  entrusted  to  it  are  too  plain  to  be 
ignored.  It  is,  therefore,  regrettable  that  in 
the  present  instance  an  appointment  has  not 
been  made  which  would  have  infused  new  life 
into  the  institution,  and  given  the  commercial 
public  some  j^arantee  that  it  would  be  given 
the  service  its  work  demands." 


NOVA  SCOTIA   COAL 

IT  is  encouragingto  notethatcoal  ship- 
ments from  Nova  Scotia  to  Montreal 
by  the  St.  Lawrence  route  are  steadily 
increasing,  says  the  Maritime  Merchant. 
"Until  a  comparatively  recent  date  our 


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THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


mines  were  able  to  sell  but  a  moderate 
quantity  of  coal  to  Upper  Canada. 
This  year  (1904)  the  water  shipments 
from  Nova  Scotia  collieries  to  Montreal 
will  be  close  on  to  one  million  and  a 
half  tons.  Up  to  the  end  of  October 
the  shipments  were  1,170,095  tons, 
and  as  the  different  companies  will  be 
able  to  send  their  steamers  up  the 
St.  Lawrence  until  the  beginning  of 
December,  this  will  be  added  to 
materially  before  the  close  of  naviga- 
tion. Of  this  amount  over  a  million 
tons  were  shipped  by  the  Dominion 
Coal  Company  to  fill  its  large  contracts 
with  the  Grand  Trunk  and  Canadian 
Pacific  Railways,  and  the  Montreal 
Heat,  Light  and  Power  Company. 
The  next  largest  shipper  was  the  Nova 
Scotia  Steel  and  Coal  Company.  The 
Montreal  shipments  this  year  will  be 
nearly  half  a  million  tons  larger  than 
in  any  previous  year.  The  most  pleasing 
feature  from  a  Nova  Scotia  standpoint 
is  the  displacement  of  large  ship- 
ments of  Scotch  and  Welsh  coal  by 
the  bituminous  coal  from  our  own 
province." 


hold  this  valuable  franchise.  Since 
the  vote,  the  city  has  purchased  enough 
stock  to  give  the  Mayor  a  seat  on  the 
Board  of  the  Consumer's  Gas  Com- 
pany, as  the  franchise-holding  corpora- 
tion is  called. 


THE    HOME    MARKET 

ONE  of  the  great  arguments  of  the 
protectionists  is  "  the  value  of  the 
home  market."  They  explain  and  re- 
explain,  illustrate  and  re-illustrate  with 
a  commendable  resourcefulness.  Here 
is  a  recent  example  from  the  Montreal 
Gazette,  the  most  forceful  of  the  "pro- 
tection" journals: 

"  There  were  slaughtered  in  Montreal  last 
week  for  local  use  2,172  horned  cattle,  792 
calves,  4,354  sheep  and  3,341  hogs,  a  total  of 
over  10,600  animals.  Multiplying  these  fig- 
ures by  52  gives  over  150,000  cattle  and 
calves,  220,000  sheep,  and  the  same  number 
of  hogs,  or  over  550,000  animals  in  all,  as  the 
consumption  by  one  city  of  the  live  stock  pro- 
duct of  Canadian  farms.  The  trade  does  not 
figure  in  the  customs  returns,  but  it  is  more 
important  than  any  single  item  of  the  live 
stock  business  that  does.  It  is  a  home  mar- 
ket argument  of  the  forcible  kind." 


THE   STEADY   MARCH 

'T^HE  ratepayers  of  the  town  of  West- 
-*■  mount,  Montreal's  model  suburb, 
have  decided  by  an  overwhelming 
majority  to  borrow  $225,000  to  instal  a 
municipal  electric  light  plant  and  an 
incinerator  plant.  The  assessment  of 
those  who  voted  yea  was  two  and  a 
half  times  that  of  those  who  voted 
nay,  showing  a  remarkable  confidence 
among  wealthy  people  in  favour  of 
municipal  ownership. 

The  ratepayers  of  Toronto  recently 
decided  by  vote  that  the  City  Council 
should  buy  $1,000,000  worth  of  Gas 
Stock  in  the  discretion  of  the  officials. 
This  is  the  first  move  toward  securing 
a  voice  in  the  management  of  the  Gas 
Company,  so  as  to  prevent,  if  possible, 
any  wasteful  administration  or  exces- 
sive profits  on  the  part  of  those  who 


TELEPHONE    BARGAINS 

The  Bell  Telephone  Company  is  now 
making  municipal  bargains  where  com- 
pelled to  do  so.  A  five  years'  arrange- 
ment has  been  made  with  the  City  of 
Kingston,  which  accepted  an  offer 
that  was  as  follows: — The  company 
will  erect  a  new  building ;  instal 
metallic  lines  with  the  most  approved 
instruments;  pay  the  city  $700  a  year; 
allow  the  city  free  use  of  their  poles 
for  fire  alarm  wires;  supply  subscribers 
with  the  Blake  instruments  at  $30  per 
annum  for  business  premises  and  $25 
for  residences;  for  two  party  lines  for 
residences,  $18  each;  for  two  and  not 
more  than  four  $15  each.  The  com- 
pany will  proceed  at  once  with  the 
erection  of  a  building  on  Clarence 
street  opposite  the  post  office. 


AN     ESKIMO     FAMILY 

RESIDENTS     OF     THE     NORTHLAND     OF     CANADA 
Photograph  by  C.  W.  Mathers,  Edmonton 


THE 


CANADIAN  Magazine 


VOL.   XXI\'  TORONTO,    FEBRUARY,    1905 


No.  4 


SPORT  AND  TRAVEL  IN   NORTHERN 

CANADA 

By  ''REVIEWER'' 


\  June,  1902,  an  adventur- 
ous Britisher  set  out  from 
Edmonton  to  reach  the 
Arctic  circle,  via  Great 
Slave  Lake  and  Chester- 
field Inlet.  He  accomplished  his  self- 
appointed^  task,  passed  along  the 
Northern*  Coast  to  the  Coppermine, 
up  that  to  the  Dease,  and  up  the  Dease 
to  Great  Bear  Lake,  at  which  he  ar- 
rived on  August  20th,  1902,  A  paddle 
of  276  miles  brought  him  to  P'ort 
Norman  on  August  30th — fourteen 
months  without  the  comforts  of  civil- 
isation. This  is  the  greatest  explor- 
atory trip  of  modern  times,  so  far  as 
Canada  is  concerned.  A  splendid  ac- 
count of  the  trip  has  been  published.* 
The  explorers  who  have  succeeded 
in  passing  through  that  district  are  not 
numerous,  though  many  have  made  the 
attempt.  Samuel  Hearne's  attempts 
in  1769-71  finally  carried  him  from 
Churchill  to  the  Coppermine.  His 
meagre  information  was  supplemented 
in  1820-21  by  the  explorations  of  Cap- 
tain (Sir  John)  Franklin  who  passed 
from  Great  Slave  Lake  to  Great  Bear 
Lake  and  descended  the  Coppermine 
to  the  Sea.  He  and  his  Canadian 
voyageurs  then  turned  east,  and  after 
great  privations  some  of  them  reached 
old  Fort  Providence  on  Great  Slave 
Lake  whence  they  had  started.  In 
1832  Captain  (Sir  George)  Back  started 

♦Sport  and  Travel  in  the  Northland  of  Can- 
ada, by  David  T.  Hanbiiry.  New  York:  The 
Macmillan  Co.;  London:  Edward  Arnold. 


from  Great  Slave  Lake,  and  in  two 
seasons  had  explored  Great  Fish  River 
(Back's  River)  from  Lake  Aylmer  to 
the  Arctic  Coast.  Six  years  later  the 
exploration  of  the  Coast  between  the 
mouth  of  the  Coppermine  and  the 
mouth  of  Back's  River  was  undertaken 
by  two  H.  B.  Co.  men,  Warren  Dease 
and  Thomas  Simpson.  Their  second 
attempt  was  successful. 

Franklin's  ill-fated  expedition  in 
1850,  when  forty  white  men  lost  their 
lives  in  King  William  Land,  was  the 
last  of  the  attempts  to  find  a  northern 
passage  from  the  Atlantic  to  the  Pa- 
cific. Since  then  the  explorers  have 
been  less  ambitious,  but  equally  dar- 
ing. Of  these,  Warburton  Pike,  the 
Tyrrells  and  David  T.  Hanbury  are 
the  only  names  that  are  really  worth 
mentioning.  Pike's  explorations  are 
well  known,  and  the  work  of  the 
Tyrrells  is  familiar  to  Canadians 
through  their  contributions  to  the 
Canadian  Magazine  and  their  books. 
The  work  of  Mr.  Hanbury  is  now  given 
to  the  public  for  the  first  time. 

Mr,  Hanbury  is  an  Englishman  of 
means,  whose  ambition  is  to  add  to 
the  world's  knowledge  by  means  of 
explorations.  He  is  well  known  to 
many  Canadians,  who  report  that  his 
chief  social  characteristic  is  his  delight 
in  making  fun  of  Canadian  people, 
whom  he  regards  as  a  race  of  egotists 
who  are  really  less  enterprising  than 
they  think  they  are.  He  has  certainly 
done  excellent  work  for  the  Dominion 


300 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


A   TYPICAL   RAPID   ON    A    RIVER    IN    THE   NORTHLAND   OF   CANADA 

It  is  such  rapids  as  these  which  compel  portages  on  the  tJart  of  hunters,  trappers  and  explorers  and 
make  travel  difficult  and  tedious 


in  exploring  that  part  of  our  territory 
which  lies  between  Hudson  Bay  and 
Great  Bear  Lake  and  between  the 
Arctic  Ocean  and  Great  Slave  Lake. 
This  district  is  generally  known  as 
the  Barren  Land,  but  Mr.  Hanbury 
shows  that  it  is  neither  barren  nor  un- 
inhabited, though  the  conditions  of 
life  within  its  borders  are  too  severe  for 
the  ordinary  white  man. 

Leaving  Winnipeg  in  February, 
1899,  he  travelled  leisurely  overland 
via  Berens  River,  Norway  House,  Ox- 
ford House  and  York  Factory,  reaching 
Fort  Churchill  in  April.  He  left  there 
on  May  the  12th  with  two  half-breeds 
and  two  Huskies  (or  Eskimo),  reach- 
ing Marble  Island  on  June  5th  and 
Chesterfield  Inlet  three  days  after- 
wards. A  month  later  they  were  at 
the  head  of  Baker  Lake  which  is  some 
sixty  miles  in  length,  east  and  west. 
Early  in  August  they  left  the  explored 
country  and,  without  guides  and  with- 
out supplies  of  any  kind,   started  into 


the  unknown  northern  district,  trusting 
to  their  rifle  and  fish  nets  to  keep 
them  in  food.  Proceeding  west  via 
the  Ark-i-linik  River  they  came  to 
Great  Slave  Lake,  landing  at  Fort  Res- 
olution on  September  25th,  a  little 
over  four  months  without  seeing  a 
white  man. 

THE  PLANNING  OF  IT 

Having  been  so  successful,  the 
author  planned  a  greater  trip.  Per- 
haps this  can  be  best  explained  in  his 
own  words: 

"The  purpose  of  exploring  the  bar- 
ren Northland,  which  has  a  wonderful 
fascination  for  those  who  have  once 
penetrated  its  solitude,  was  not  inter- 
rupted but  rather  confirmed  by  the 
vexatious  canoe  accident.  There  re- 
mained vast  tracts  still  unknown,  and 
it  was  my  desire  to  traverse  these  as 
far  as  the  Arctic  Coast,  where  I  would 
find  a  welcome  among  the  natives, 
favourable  specimens  of  whom   I  had 


SPORT  AND  TRAVEL  IN  NORTHERN  CANADA 


;oi 


=;jj 


AN    ESKIMO    FAMILY 
Photograph  by  C.  W .  \iathers,  Edmonton 


met  on  the  Ark-i-Iinik  River.  These 
men.  intelligent,  able-bodied,  con- 
tented and  friendly,  had  given  me  much 
information  concerning  their  country 
and  their  mode  of  life,  and  they  had 
promised  to  assist  and  accompany  me 
if  I  visited  their  coast.  Their  equip- 
ment of  implements  and  arms  of  native 
copper,  beaten  into  shape  by  their  own 
hands,  was  of  much  interest,  and  they 
had  offered  to  guide  me  to  the  locali- 
ties where  copper  was  to  be  found. 
Copper  deposits  on  that  coast  would 
probably  be  of  no  commercial  value, 
but  I  might  at  least  see  the  beginnings 
of  the  metal  industry  among  a  primi- 
tive people.  Thus  the  outline  of  a 
new  journey  was  formed,  and  I  decided 


to  reach  Hudson  Bay  near  the  mouth 
of  Chesterfield  Inlet  in  autumn,  spend 
the  winter  among  the  Huskies  of  that 
region,  and  set  out  in  spring  with  dogs 
and  sleighs  due  north  for  the  Arctic 
Coast.  On  reaching  the  ocean  I  should 
turn  westwards  across  the  divide  sep- 
arating the  waters  of  the  Coppermine 
River  from  those  of  Great  Bear  Lake, 
whence  I  should  return  to  civilisation 
by  way  of  Fort  Norman  and  the  Mac- 
kenzie River.  On  this  journey  I  should 
make  a  survey  of  my  route,  take  me- 
teorological observations,  collect  geo- 
logical, botanical,  and  entomological 
specimens,  and,  of  course,  take  photo- 
graphs of  the  country  and  of  the 
Huskies. 


302 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


"Various  matters  detained  me  in 
England  but,  at  length,  in  May,  1901, 
I  had  reached  Winnipeg  and  was  ready 
to  set  out  for  the  North.  Here  details 
as  to  the  precise  route  were  arranged, 
but  as  these  will  appear  in  the  course 
of  the  narrative  they  need  not  now  be 
given.  My  outfit  was  made  as  light  as 
possible.  The  scientific  equipment  was 
limited  to  a  sextant  prismatic  compass, 
two  aneroids,  hypsometer,  maximum 
and  minimum  thermometers,  and  a 
patent  log  for  measuring  distances 
travelled  by  canoe.  A  solar  compass 
and  a  theodolite  were  purposely  left 
behind  as  they  were  not  likely  to  stand 
the  long  journey  on  a  sleigh,  which  we 
should  have  to  make,  without  getting 
hopelessly  out  of  adjustment.  For 
photographic  work  1  took  three  cameras 
and  a  large  supply  of  both  glass  plates 
and  films. 
Every- 
thing  that 
was  likely 
to  be  dam- 
aged by 
water  or 
damp  I 
packed  in 
two  of 
S  i  1  ve  r's 
water- 
tight tin 

boxes.  The  films  and  glass  plates 
were  put  up  in  separate  tin  cases,  each 
containing  one  dozen,  and  hermetically 
sealed.  I  had  determined,  in  the  event 
of  another  canoe  accident,  to  save 
some  of  my  things  if  possible.  My 
battery,  which  I  considered  complete, 
consisted  of  two  Mannlicher  carbines 
fitted  with  sporting  sights,  and  a 
double-barrel,  breechloading,  28  bore 
shot-gun.  About  three  thousand 
rounds  were  taken  for  the  carbines. 
For  catching  fish  we  took  six  nets  of 
different-sized  mesh.  As  the  larger 
part  of  the  journey  would  have  to  be 
made  through  a  country  where  we 
should  have  to  depend  absolutely  on 
deer,  musk-oxen  or  fish,  fire-arms, 
ammunition  and  nets  formed  the  most 
important  part  of  our  outfit. 

"  I  had  ordered  two  cedar  canoes,  19 


ESKIMO    WOMAN  S   TATOOEU    HAND    AND   ARM 


feet  and  19^  feet  in  length  respectively, 
to  be  specially  built  for  the  journey  by 
the  Peterborough  Canoe  Company  of 
Ontario,  and  to  be  forwarded  to  Edmon- 
ton, As  these  canoes  would  only  hold 
a  limited  amount  of  stuff,  arrange- 
ments were  made  with  Messrs.  Thos. 
Luce  &  Co.,  New  Bedford,  Mass.,  to 
ship  up  the  balance  of  the  outfit  by 
their  whaling  schooner  Francis  Allyn, 
which  was  due  to  leave  New  Bedford  for 
the  Hudson  Bay  about  July  ist.  The 
outfit  I  sent  up,  and  which  amounted  to 
about  i^  tons,  included  food  supplies 
for  the  coming  winter,  trade  articles 
for  the  natives,  such  as  guns,  rifles, 
powder,  lead,  caps,  knives,  files,  awls, 
beads,  needles,  thimbles,  clothes,  etc. 
A  reserve  of  Mannlicher  cartridges, 
photo  plates  and  films,  a  spare  set  of 
canoe   paddles,    a    "primus"   cooking 

stove,  and 
fifty  gal- 
1 o  n  s  of 
kerosene 
oil,  com- 
pleted the 
list.  Mar- 
blelsland, 
which  lies 
about  40 
miles 
south 
from  the 
mouth  of  Chesterfield  Inlet,  was  the 
place  mentioned  as  the  probable  winter 
quarters  of  the  Francis  Allyn.  As  the 
owners  were  not  absolutely  certain  as 
to  the  winter  quarters  of  their  vessel, 
the  captain  being  absent  at  the  time,  I 
informed  them  that  it  was  a  matter  of 
indifference  to  me  where  the  vessel 
wintered,  for  I  should  have  no  difficulty 
in  finding  her,  a  remark  which  I  had 
afterwards  cause  to  regret. 

"  As  I  had  frequently  travelled  be- 
tween Winnipeg  and  Fort  Churchill  by 
Norway  House  and  York  Factory,  that 
route  could  now  present  little  in  the 
way  of  novelty.  I  had  discovered  a 
new  and  easy  route  by  the  Ark-i-linik, 
with  which  I  desired  to  become  familiar, 
and  I  had  no  hesitation  in  deciding  to 
travel  by  rail  toCalgary  and  Edmonton, 
whence,  after  a  short  land  journey,   I 


SPORT  AND  TRA  VEL  IN  NORTHERN  CANADA  303 


FORT    RESOLUTION   ON   GREAT   SLAVE   LAKE 
Most  of  the  merchandise  and  travellers'  effects  is  taken  through  the  lake  on  «c<»»s. 
PkotOi/raph  I  v  ('    II'    \fatkcrs.  Edmonton 


IS  shown  here 


should  be  able  to  proceed  almost  the 
whole  way  to  Hudson  Bay  in  a  canoe 
voyage  on  rivers  and  lakes.  There 
would  be  portages,  but  for  these  pro- 
vision could  easily  be  made.  By  leaving 
Edmonton  about  the  middle  of  June  I 
expected  to  reach  the  shore  of  the  Bay 
early  in  August. 

"At  Edmonton,  which  I  reached 
early  in  June,  I  found  the  two  canoes 
I  had  ordered;  and,  all  other  arrange- 
ments having  been  completed,  I  turned 
my  attention  to  the  engaging  of  men 
for  the  journey.  And  here  a  few  general 
words  on  this  subject  may  not  be  out 
of  place. 

WHITE  vs.   BROWN 

"1  have  learned  from  experience 
that  an  expedition  to  the  north  has  the 
better  chance  of  success  the  fewer 
white  men  are  connected  with  it.  In 
travelling  over  the  'Barren  Ground' 
one  cannot  have  more  suitable  compan- 
ions than  the  natives  of  the  country. 
A  white  man  there  is  in  a  strange  land, 
and,  however  willing  and  able  to  stand 
cold,  hunger  and  fatigue,  he  is  a  novice 
in  this  experience.  The  conditions 
and  work  are  unfamiliar  to  him,  and  if 
he  were  to  meet  with  a  bad  accident, 
or  to  fall  ill,  or  to  lose  himself  in  a  fog, 
his  misfortune  would  probably  be  the 


ruin  of  the  expedition.  Husky  serv- 
ants, on  the  other  hand,  are  always  at 
home,  for  their  wives  and  children  join 
your  company  along  with  them,  so 
that  they  never  leave  off  their  cus- 
tomary life.  If  one  of  them  falls  ill 
and  has  to  be  left  behind,  his  wife 
remains  with  him;  they  build  their 
snow  dwelling,  and  their  household  is 
at  once  complete.  All  the  work  which 
has  to  be  done,  such  as  hunting,  cut- 
ting up  meat,  looking  after  dogs  and 
sleighs  in  winter  and  boating  in  sum- 
mer, is  done  better  and  more  quickly 
by  Huskies  than  by  white  men.  The 
wives  somewhat  retard  the  journey, 
but  they  perform  services  which  are 
indispensable,  making  and  mending 
clothes  and  foot-gear,  which  soon  get 
worn  out.  Huskies  are  hard-working, 
honest,  good-natured  and  cheerful 
companions.  They  are  unwearying 
on  behalf  of  one  who  treats  them  well, 
and  the  traveller,  ofi  his  side,  must 
learn  to  exercise  a  little  patience  with 
them. 

"  However,  white  companions  or 
else  half-breeds  are  necessary  in  order 
to  reach  Husky-land  and  to  return 
from  it. 

That  Mr.  Hanbury  met  with  diffi- 
culties is  not  surprising ;  that  he 
succeeded    in    his   attempt   is   almost 


304 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


IGLL'S    (SNOW    HOLSF.S)    AT    WHITE    BEAR 
Illustration  from  "The  Northland 

wonderful.  As  he  proceeded  north, 
he  left  the  timber  country  behind  and 
there  was  no  firewood.  Even  moss 
and  lichens  eventually  failed  him,  and 
he  was  forced  to  depend  on  heather  for 
cooking  purposes.  "The  collecting  of 
enough  to  boil  our  evening  pot  of 
meat  was  laborious,  and  required 
patience  and  time.  Our  stock  of 
kerosene  oil  had  long  since  leaked 
away,  so  we  were  obliged  either  to 
gather  this  heather  or  eat  our  meat 
raw."  As  fuel  became  scarce,  it  was 
difficult  during  the  cold  weather  to  get 
enough  water  to  drink.  The  rivers 
dry  up  to  a  series  of  pools  and  then 
freeze  almost  solid.  Occasionally 
water  was  secured  only  after  chiselling 
through  seven  and  a  half  to  nine  feet 
of  solid  ice. 

Then  there  was  the  difficulty  ot 
keeping  the  Esquimaux  friendly  and 
progressive.  The  successful  perform- 
ance of  this  shows  Mr.  Hanbury 
to  be  possessed  of  much  common 
sense  and  tact.  Only  a  man  of  un- 
limited patience  and  with  a  strong, 
courageous  heart  could  venture  so  far 
under  such  trying  and  searching  con- 
ditions. 


POINT,    ARCTIC   CIRCLE 
of  Canada" 


HUDSON 
BAY    RAIL- 
WAY 

Incident- 
ally, Mr. 
Hanbury 
expresses 
his  opinion 
as  to  the  ad- 
visability of 
a  Hudson 
Bay  Rail- 
w  a  y  to 
Ch  ester- 
field  Inlet. 
He  says 
that  those 
that  favour 
such  a 
scheme 
have  dilat- 
edtohimon 
the  number 
of  summer 
residences 
that  would  spring  into  existence  on  the 
shores  of  the  Bay  Mr.  Hanbury 
rather  laughs  at  this  idea,  as  the 
summer  season  is  not  more  than  two 
months  in  length.  Towards  the  south 
of  the  Bay,  it  is  possible  to  grow 
vegetables.  There  is  some  timber 
along  the  Ark-i-linik  River,  but  it  is 
only  a  fringe  and  would  never  justify 
a  railway.  Of  course  minerals  may 
be  discovered.  He  confirms  the  in- 
formation that  only  the  shore  water 
of  Hudson  Bay  freezes  in  winter. 

INDIANS  vs.   ESKIMO 

Mr.  Hanbury  is  never  tired  singing 
the  praise  of  the  Huskies  nor  of  de- 
preciating the  Indian.  On  page  41,  he 
says : 

"I  was  delighted  to  be  once  more 
among  the  Huskies,  whose  disposition 
presented  a  striking  contrast  to  that 
of  the  'poor  Indians'  we  had  re- 
cently left.  The  Indian  is  morose, 
even  sullen,  rarely  smiles,  and  of  late 
years  has  acquired  a  slovenly,  swag- 
gering way  of  going  about.  When 
one  arrives  at  his  camp  and  proceeds 
to  pitch  his  tent,  the  Indian  never 
offers  a  helping  hand.      Pipe  in  mouth, 


SPORT  AND  TRA  VEL  IN  NORTHERN  CANADA 


305 


he  stands  sullenly  looking  on,  his 
hands  thrust  deep  in  his  trousers' 
pockets.  The  contempt  which  he 
nourishes  in  his  heart  for  the  white 
man  is  expressed  on  his  countenance. 

"The  Huskies,  on  the  other  hand, 
when  the  strangers'  canoe  is  sighted 
in  the  distance,  put  out  at  once  in 
their  kyaks  to  meet  them  and  conduct 
them  to  the  camp.  They  appear  de- 
lighted, overwhelmed  with  joy,  to  see 
and  welcome  'kablunak,'  or  white 
people.  Women  and  children  rush 
down  to  the  canoes,  seize  hold  of  the 
'stuff'  and  carry  it  up  to  the  camping 
ground,  never  stopping  to  ask  whether 
one  is  to  camp  or  go  further  on. 
They  bring  large  stones,  which  in 
these  parts  serve  for  tent  pegs,  and  all 
lend  a  hand  to  pitch  the  tent.  Amid 
much  laughter,  screams,  and  yells  of 
joy,  the  tent  is  erected,  and  then  they 
rush  off  to  their  own  tents  to  bring 
what  they  have  in  the  way  of  food. 
It  is  often  not  much  ;  the  meat  and 
fish  may  be,  and  very  often  are, 
stinking  and  putrid,  but  it  is  the  best 
they  have. 

"The  Huskies  are  like  happy  and 
contented  children,  always  laughing 
and  merry,  good-natured  and  hospi- 
table. Everything  that  they  possess, 
food,  clothes,  footgear,  and  services 
are  at  the  disposal  of  the  white 
strangers.  Their  wives  even  they 
freely  offer,  shocking  as  this  may 
sound  to  respectable  people  at  home. 
This  subject  need  not  be 
discussed  here,  but  I 
must  add  that  to  accuse 
the  Huskies  of  immoral- 
ity on  the  ground  of  such 
practices  would  be  gross- 
ly unjust." 

On  page  66  and  fol- 
lowing pages  he  makes 
some  interesting  remarks 
on  Husky  fashions  and 
legends : 

"Most  of  the  grown- 
up Hudson  Bay  women 
are  tattooed  on  the  face, 
a  thick  paste  of  charcoal 
and  water  being  rubbed 
in    after  the    application 


of  a  needle.  The  most  popular  orna- 
ment among  them  is  a  brass  band, 
about  half  or  three-quarters  of  an  inch 
in  width,  placed  across  the  forehead 
and  extending  behind  the  ears.  The 
material  for  these  is  no  doubt  obtained 
from  empty  cartridge-cases  and  other 
pieces  of  metal  given  by  the  whaling 
crews.  Other  ornamental  appendages 
are  cylindrical  pieces  of  wood,  about 
sixteen  inches  in  length,  which, 
covered  with  beaded  cloth,  hang  from 
the  ends  of  their  tresses,  and  end  in  a 
tassel  or  tuft  of  false  hair.  The  men 
are  almost  as  fond  of  beads  as  the 
women,  and  a  long-tailed  deerskin 
coat  covered  with  beads  excites  ad- 
miration and  envy.  White  beads 
were  in  fashion  at  the  time  of  my  visit, 
but  possibly  Husky  fashions  change 
as  ours  do. 

"When  a  woman  has  given  birth  to 
a  child  she  is  not  allowed  to  leave  the 
place  where  she  is  lying  for  a  whole 
moon.  If  the  tribe  happens  to  be 
travelling  at  the  time,  she  must  get 
along  as  best  she  can,  but  must  on  no 
account  follow  the  track  of  the  party. 
She  must  keep  at  a  safe  distance  on 
one  side.  If  one  woman  gives  birth 
to  a  boy  at  the  time  when  another 
gives  birth  to  a  girl,  the  boy  must  be- 
come the  husband  of  the  girl.  Re- 
lations nearer  than  cousins  never 
marry. 

"It  is  customary  for  the  men  to 
have   only    one   wife,   but   some   have 


GENERAL  PLAN  OF  TWO  ESKIMO  SNOW  HOUSES  AND 
CONNECTING  KITCHEN  AND  OUTHOUSES 

(a)  Raised  benches  of  snow  on  which  Huskies  live  and  sleep;  ft) 
passages  down  middle;  (ci  meat-safe  or  cellar;  idi  fireplace  in  kitchen 
— flat  stones  laid  on  raised  snow  bench;  («)  kitchen;  Q)  outhouses  for 
storing  stuff,  shelter  for  the  dogs,  etc.;  (a)  doorways,  about  2\  feet 
high;  (A)  passage  to  outside;  (»)  walls  of  snow  for  protection  from  wind 
and  drift. 


3o6 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


two,  and  Sahk-pi,  whom  I  have 
already  mentioned,  had  three.  When 
a  second  wife  is  desired,  the  reason  is 
generally  to  be  found  in  the  domestic 
arrangement  of  the  Husky.  When  he 
goes  in  winter  to  hunt  the  musk-ox  he 
takes  his  wife  with  him.  She  helps  to 
build  the  iglu  or  snow  house,  prepares 
the  food,  collects  moss  for  fuel,  and 
keeps  his  clothes  and  foot-gear  in  re- 
pair. She  is  almost  indispensable  on 
such  expeditions.  But  naturally  her 
services  are  not  always  available,  and 
hence  arises  the  wish  for  a  second 
wife.  A  double  matrimonial  arrange- 
ment does  not  disturb  the  domestic 
harmony.  The  two  wives  show  no 
jealousy;  they  smoke  the  same  pipe, 
rub  noses  (their  form  of  kissing),  eat 
together,  and  sleep  together  in  tran- 
quillity. There  are  no  marriage  rites 
among  the  Huskies.  Their  notions  of 
conjugal  fidelity  are  different  from 
ours,  free  love  is  universal,  but  there 
are  no  divorces.  It  is  very  rarely  that 
a  husband  sends  his  wife  away.  I 
was  not  acquainted  with  a  single  case, 
but  was  told  that  on  one  or  two  oc- 
casions a  wife  had  been  turned  away 
for  gross  neglect  of  her  children. 
The  husbands  are  fond  of  their  wives 
and  children,  and  treat  them  well. 
Girls  are  given  in  marriage  very 
young,  matters  being  arranged  by 
their  parents.  A  girl  seven  years  of 
age,  belonging  to  my  party,  was 
already  bestowed  on  a  man  of  thirty." 

ESKIMO  IGLUS 

The  author  speaks  highly  of  the 
Eskimo  iglus  and  refutes  the  idea  that 
they  are  close  and  unhealthy  and 
abound  in  filth,  squalor,  vermin  and 
stench.  He  lived  for  eight  months  in 
the  iglus  and  should  know.  Speaking 
of  their  construction,   he  says,   p    75: 

"All  the  snow-bricks  for  the  con- 
struction of  the  iglu  are  cut  from  the 
snow  on  the  ground  on  which  the  iglu 
is  to  be  built,  or  from  what  may  be 
called  the  floor  of  the  house.  Two 
Huskies  work  together,  one  cutting 
the  bricks  of  snow,  the  other  placing 
them  in  position.  The  bricks  are  laid 
in  an  endless  coil  which,  as  it  increases 


in  height,  decreases  in  breadth.  The 
walls  are  thus  gradually  drawn  in  to- 
wards each  other,  until  finally  only  a 
small  hole  remains  in  the  top  at  the 
centre  of  the  roof.  Into  this  a  circular 
or  square  plug  of  snow  is  inserted, 
and  the  edifice  is  complete.  The  iglu 
is  circular  in  shape,  and  the  roof,  when 
built  by  experts,  forms  a  perfect  dome. 
All  the  work  is  done  from  the  inside, 
and  when  the  iglu  is  finished  the  two 
workmen  are  still  within. 

They  cut  a  hole,  crawl  to  the  out- 
side, and  then  close  up  this  hole  with 
a  snow-brick.  Next,  snow-bricks  are 
cut  for  a  distance  of  some  ten  feet 
outwards  from  the  snow  house,  and 
are  laid  close  against  each  other  in 
two  lines  so  as  to  form  a  passage,  the 
bricks  being  piled  higher  on  the  wind- 
ward side.  Through  the  side  of  the 
iglu  a  square  hole  for  a  permanent 
doorway  is  then  cut  on  a  level  with 
the  floor  of  the  passage.  The  two 
builders  now  re-enter  and  inspect  the 
result  of  their  labour.  Some  of  the 
bricks  are  seen  not  to  fit  closely,  light 
appears  in  the  interstices.  These  are 
carefully  gone  over  and  plastered  with 
loose  snow.  There  still  remain  a  con- 
siderable number  of  bricks  in  the  in- 
terior, for  the  area  of  the  floor  has 
furnished  more  bricks  than  were  re- 
quired for  building  up  the  walls  and 
roof.  These  spare  bricks  are  now 
used  to  form  benches,  one  on  either 
side.  On  these  snow  benches  the  in- 
mates sleep  and  sit,  only  a  narrow 
passage  is  left  between  them.  While 
the  Husky  men  complete  the  iglu,  the 
women  shovel  snow  against  its  sides 
and  on  the  roof  to  ensure  perfect 
freedom  from  draughts  of  cold  air. 

"When  the  house  is  completed,  in- 
side and  out,  the  women  enter  with 
the  deer-skin  robes  and  the  rest  of 
their  'stuff.'  Mats  made  of  dwarf 
birch  are  laid  on  the  snow  benches  on 
either  side.  The  deerskins  are  laid  on 
these,  and  the  iglu  is  ready  for  occu- 
pation." 

WAS  IT  COLD? 

Few  people  would  care  to  go  up  to 
the  Arctic  circle  to  live,  as  it  certainly 
is  a  cool  climate.      If  there  is  no  wind, 


SPORT  AND  TRA  VEL  IN  NORTHERN  CANADA 


307 


the  cold  is  not  hard  to  bear.  A  few 
lines  from  page  104  give  Mr.  Hanbury's 
most  characteristic  comments  on  this 
point : 

"'Oi^  February  19  we  had  to  face  a 
strong  north-west  wind,  and  our  faces 
suffered  severely.  The  minimum  ther- 
mometer in  the  night  had  registered 
— 42°,  and  the  maximum  during  the 
day  was  — 30°. 

"It  is  always  cold  travelling 
against  any  wind,  however  light,  when 
the  thermometer  stands  at  or  below 
— 20°.  I  did  not  happen  to  be  wearing 
deerskin  pants,  and  my  legs  became 
almost  benumbed  by  the  cold.  Deer- 
skins are  the  only  clothes  that  afford 
protection  against  the  Arctic  cold. 
Woollen  garments,  no  matter  how 
thick  they  may  be,  are  not  suitable. 
As  everybody  knows,  it  is  the  layer  of 
air  within  one's  garments  that  keeps 
the  warmth  necessary  for  comfort. 
Skin  clothes  retain  this  layer  of  warm 
air  better  than  anything  else,  and  on 
that  account  form  the  most  suitable 
clothing. 

"Many  people  who  ought  to  know 
better  do  not  think  the  Huskies  suffer 
from  cold.  The  only  foundation  for 
this  supposition  lies  in  the  fact  that 
the  sufferers  do  not  complain.  Strong 
men  and  women  are  alike  susceptible 
to  frost,  and  their  hands,  feet,  cheeks, 
neck,  nose  and  ears  get  frozen  if  not 
properly  protected.  On  the  other 
hand,  they  do  not  render  themselves 
unnaturally  sensitive  to  cold  by  in- 
dulging in  fireside  comforts,  for  they 
show  no  desire  for  fire." 

Another  interesting  paragraph  is 
found  close  by: 

"The  women  and  children  all 
walked,  and  walked  well.  Cuckoo, 
Uttungerlah's  wife,  had  an  infant  at 
the  breast,  but  did  not  seem  to  mind 
this  load.  The  youngster  was  carried 
naked  in  the  hood  of  her  deerskin  coat. 
When  the  mother  wished  to  feed  the 
baby,  she  reached  back  over  her 
shoulder  and  jerked  the  youngster  out, 
sometimes  setting  it  on  the  snow, 
which,  though  the  thermometer  was 
anywhere  between  — 30°  and  — 50°,  it 
did  not  appear  to  mind." 


MUSK-OXEN 

Not  many  years  ago,  mui-k  oxen 
were  plentiful  around  .Artillery  Lake, 
but  now  only  caribou  are  met  with 
there. 

"  Farther  east  on  the  main  Ark-i- 
linik  River  there  is  a  stretch  of  country 
about  eighty  miles  in  length  into 
which  no  human  being  enters.  The 
Eskimo  do  not  hunt  so  far  west,  and 
Yellow  Knives  and  Dog  Ribs  from 
Slave  Lake  do  not  go  so  far  east.  To 
penetrate  this  country  in  the  dead  of 
winter  would  be  simply  to  court  starv- 
ation. Then  the  deer  have  all  departed, 
and  to  depend  on  finding  musk-oxen 
at  the  end  of  the  journey  would  be 
risky  indeed.  Thus  there  still  remains 
one  spot  in  this  Great  Barren  North- 
land which  is  sacred  to  the  musk-ox. 
Here  the  animals  remain  in  their  pri- 
meval state  exhibiting  no  fear,  only 
curiosity.  I  approached  several  herds 
within  thirty  yards,  photographed 
them  at  my  leisure,  and  then  retired, 
leaving  them  still  stupidly  staring  at 
me  as  if  in  wonder." 

Northwards  from  this  to  Bathurst 
Inlet  on  the  .-Krctic  Coast,  musk-oxen 
may  be  found  by  the  careful  hunter. 
Huskies  met  with  between  Cape  Bar- 
ron and  the  Coppermine  River  reported 
musk-oxen  plentiful  a  short  distance 
inland.  Occasionally,  they  were  met 
with  on  the  Dease  River,  which  is  a 
tributary  of  the  Coppermine  and  the 
outlet  of  Great  Bear  Lake.  A  big  bull 
musk-ox  was  killed  on  August  7th  and 
was  found  to  be  in  splendid  condition 
and  to  have  a  robe  which  was  in  ex- 
cellent order.  Another  was  shot  Aug- 
ust 15th  near  Great  Bear  Lake. 

GEOLOGY  A.ND  FLORA 

Mr.  Hanbury  has  placed  his  scien- 
tific observations  in  Appendices,  and 
thus  left  his  narrative  free  of  any 
discussion  likely  to  interfere  with  the 
lightness  and  brightness  of  the  narra- 
tive. Those  interested  in  the  scientific 
results  of  the  trip  will,  however,  find 
ample  food  for  study  and  thought  in 
these  appendices.  The  butterflies  of 
the  Arctic  circle  are  most  interesting. 


CARRICKFERGUS   CASTLE,    OF    WHICH   THE    MARQUISES   OF   DONEGAL   WERE    FOR    MANY 

YEARS  GOVERNORS 


THE  MARCHIONESS  OF  DONEGAL 

By   MARGARET  EADIE  HENDERSON 


HAT  some  of  Great  Britain's 
titled  citizens  are  sons  of 
Canadian-born  women, 
should  be  another  link  in 
the  chain  of  Empire.  The 
number  of  Canadian  girls  who  find  the 
attractions  of  a  castle  and  a  title  irre- 
sistible is  not  large,  but  is  likely  to 
grow  larger.  When  to  these  attrac- 
tions are  added  the  magnetism  of  a 
strong  face,  a  good  character  and 
broad  culture,  there  is  no  reason  why 
the  Canadian  girl  should  not  add  a 
chief's  scalp  to  her  belt.  The  chief 
may  be  a  duke,  a  marquis,  an  honour- 
able, a  plain  British-born  man  of 
affairs,  a  diplomat  or  a  soldier,  but 
whatever  he  may  be  he  will  find  the 
Canadian  woman  the  equal  of  any  in 
dignity  and  initiative. 

These  general  remarks  are  intended 
to  be  only  a  preface  to  a  few  lines  con- 
cerning the  only  Canadian  Marchioness 
in  the  peerage.  It  was  only  yesterday 
that  this  circumstance  was  brought 
into  existence.     At   the   first  Court  of 

308 


King  Edward's  reign  Lady  Strathcona 
presented  several  Canadians,  among 
them  a  Miss  Violet  Twining,  of  Hali- 
fax. Soon  afterwards  it  was  an- 
nounced that  Miss  Twining  was  en- 
gaged to  the  fifth  Marquis  of  Donegal. 
The  marriage  took  place  on  December 
22nd,  1902,  in  that  bride-belored 
church,  St.  George's,  Hanover  Square. 

Lady  Donegal's  father  was  H.  St. 
George  Twining,  of  Halifax,  and  her 
mother  was  Ada  Twining,  nde  Miss 
Ada  Black,  of  Halifax.  On  her  father's 
side,  her  great-grandfather  was  Chap- 
lain-General to  the  Forces  in  Nova 
Scotia,  and  an  ancestor  on  the  distaff 
side  was  Bishop  Black,  head  of  the 
Methodist  denomination  in  Nova 
Scotia. 

The  Marchioness  of  Donegal  was 
born  on  Sept.  15th,  1880,  in  Halifax, 
her  childhood's  days  being  spent  in 
that  city  and  in  Bedford,  with  the 
exception  of  the  time  spent  in  travel- 
ling, for  her  ladyship's  travels  have 
been  very  extensive.      Before  she  was 


THE  MARCHIONESS  OF  DONEGAL 


309 


THE  MARCHIONESS  OF  DONEGAL  AMD  HER  SON,  THE  SIXTH  MARQUIS  OF  DONEGAL 
Photograpk  by  Jokmtton  6*  Hoffman,  London 


ten  years  ot  age,  she  had  with  her 
mother  twice  visited  the  United  States, 
and  she  has  a  distinct  recollection  of  a 
visit  to  England  and  Ireland  at  the 
age  of  seven  years,  shortly  afterwards 
going  to  the  West  Indies. 

After  a  residence  of  three  years  in 
Boston  she  lived  for  two  years  with 
her    mother's    aunt,    the    wife    of  the 


Hon.  Lemuel  Allen  Wilmot,  the  first 
Lieutenant-Governor  of  New  Bruns- 
wick after  Confederation.  After  at- 
tending school  in  diflferent  places  she 
studied  for  two  years  at  Wellesley 
College,  spending  the  summer  vaca- 
tions abroad.  During  the  first  vaca- 
tion she  accompanied  her  mother  to 
England,  visiting  many  places  of  inter- 


310 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


THE   TOWER,    RUINS   OF   CASTLE    CHICHESTER 


est  in  Holland  and  in  Belgium,  sailinj^ 
up  the  Rhine  to  Switzerland  and 
returnino^  to  Engfland  by  way  of  Paris. 
The  next  summer  was  spent  in  Scot- 
land, since  which  time  Lady  Donegal 
has  not  returned  to  Canada.  This  she 
regrets  very  much,  as  she  is  very 
anxious  to  learn  more  about  her  own 
country,  for,  as  she  naively  says,  she 
knows  only  New  Brunswick  and  Nova 
Scotia,  and  the  Niagara  district  in 
Ontario,  though  she  has  many  friends 
in  all  the  provinces. 

It  was  intended  that  they  should 
spend  the  winter  of  1900  in  Madeira, 
but  the  war  in  South  Africa  was  the 
absorbing  thought,  and  Mrs.  Twining 
being  much  interested  in  one  of  the 
hospitals  to  be  established  at  the  Cape, 
mother  and  daughter  sailed  for  Cape- 
town to  confer  with  the  military  auth- 
orities at  the  Base.  They  remained 
four  months  at  the  Cape,  from  Febru- 


ary until  the  end  of  May. 
From  that  time  until  her 
marriage,  her  travels  were 
extensive,  and  included  near- 
ly all  the  chief  points  in  Af- 
rica and  Europe. 

After  her  marriage  with 
George  Augustus  Hamilton 
Chichester,  fifth  Marquis  of 
Donegal,  a  trip  was  taken 
through  Greece,  Turkey  and 
Palestine.  Her  series  of 
photographs  taken  on  these 
journeys  is  extensive,  and 
the  enthusiastic  amateur  is 
now  printing  and  mounting 
the  collection  in  albums. 

A  true  Canadian,  she  rev- 
els in  skating,  and  riding 
has  always  been  a  favourite 
exercise,  particularly  in  the 
country.  In  music  she  has 
a  marked  preference  for 
Wagner's  compositions,  a 
preference  deepened  after 
her  visit  to  Bayreuth  to  be 
present  at  the  Wagner  fest- 
ival. And  with  these  varied 
interests  she  reads  a  great 
deal,  contriving  to  keep  in 
touch  as  far  as  possible  with 
the  world's  thought.  All  her 
life  she  has  been  fond  of  animals,  and 
has  endeavoured  to  support  in  every 
way  she  could  those  who  make  it  their 
work  to  prevent  cruelty  and  encourage 
kindness  toward  the  dumb  creation. 
Among  Lady  Donegal's  favourite  ani- 
mals is  a  pet  lemur  (Madagascar  cat), 
which  for  the  last  three  years  has  ac- 
companied her  in  all  her  travels,  even 
into  Russia.  The  lemur  is  a  very  affec- 
tionate animal  with  those  she  trusts, 
and  with  twenty-four  inches  of  black 
and  white  ringed  tail,  soft  and  fluffy, 
she  is  quite  ornamental,  though  the 
Arabs  regarded  her  as  something  un- 
canny. 

The  son  of  the  Marquis  and  Mar- 
chioness of  Donegal,  Belfast  (Earl  of 
Belfast),  who  was  born  on  October- 
7th,  1903,  was  baptised  at  Holy  Trin- 
ity Church,  Sloane  street,  receiving 
the  names  Edward  Arthur  Donald  St. 
George    Hamilton   (Chichester).      The 


SOPHISTRY 


311 


death  of  his  father 
a  few  months  ago 
leaves  his  infant  son 
and  only  child  the 
youngest  marquis 
in  the  realm.  In 
addition  to  his  her- 
editary titles  the 
baby  marquis  al- 
ready holds  a  her- 
editary office,  viz., 
Lord  High  Admiral 
of  Lough  Neagh,  an 
office  dating  back  to 
the  reign  of  Queen 
Elizabeth.  The  es- 
tate of  the  infant 
peer  is  called  Isle 
Magee,  a  long  and 
rather  narrow  pen- 
insula near  Belfast. 
The  land  is  very 
fertile,  and  the  ten- 
antry who  are  farm- 
ers on  a  larger  or 
smaller  scale,  are  a 
prosperous  class. 

On  the  Isle  Magee  are  the  ruins  of 
two  castles,  anciently  of  importance  in 
the  histor>'  of  the  family,  Castle  Chi- 
chester and  Castle  Robin.  Of  Carrick- 
fergus  Castle  the  Marquises  of  Done- 
gal were  for  long  years  Governors, 
and    an    atmosphere    of    hoary    inter- 


^ 

HHH|||^^H|^^H|^^^HM||||^H  1 

1 

M 

THE  GOBLIN  S  CUFF  PATH.  ON  ISLE  MAGEE,  THE  ESTATE 
OF  THE  MARQl'IS  OF  DONKGAI.,  IRELAND 


est  still  invests  the  ancient  stronghold. 
To  his  young  Canadian  mother  is 
left  the  responsibility  of  training  for 
his  high  rank  the  baby  marquis,  and 
those  who  know  her  best  feel  that  the 
responsibility  will  be  discharged  by  her 
with  unfailing  faithfulness. 


^Jfrn^ 


SOPHISTRY 


BY    WINIFRED    ARMSTRONG 

TF  the  sun  were  always  shining 

And  the  skies  were  blue  ; 
If  the  ones  we  loved  so  dearly 
Were  but  good  and  true, 

Life  for  us,  would  be  sufficient, 
.And  we'd  strive  no  more. 

To  be  good  enoug-h  for  Heaven, 
When  this  life  is  o'er. 


HARVEY   P.    DWIGHT 
President  Great  Northwestern  Telegraph  Co. 

CANADIAN   CELEBRITIES 

NO.  59— HARVEY  P.  DWIGHT 


pie. 


HERE  are  various  ways  of 
measuring  the  value  of  men 
to  a  community.  Various 
standards  of  their  worth 
are  held  by  different  peo- 
Some    adore    an    incarnation   of 


force,  even  unscrupulous  force;  others 
admire  a  smooth  and  clever  adroitness 
of  management ;  still  others  prefer  a 
wide  grasp  of  affairs  and  an  applica- 
tion to  them  of  business  principles  and 
practice.  But  most  people  will  con- 
cede unusual  merit  to  a  man  who  has 
lived  a  long  life  in  an  important  com- 
munity in  continuous  good  repute, 
who  has  done  the  business  of  his  im- 
portant office  consistently  well,  and 
has    besides    shown    public    spirit    in 


working  for  things  intended  to  benefit 
the  community.  In  fact  it  is  the  level- 
headed man,  the  all-round  man,  rather 
than  the  prodigy  or  the  "model  of  all 
the  virtues,"  who  makes  the  most 
valuable  type  of  citizen. 

The  man  whose  portrait  appears  here 
deserves  to  be  called  one  of  Canada's 
valuable  men.  He  is  indeed  one  of 
the  men  who  helped  conspicuously  in 
the  building  of  this  country  during  the 
last  half  century.  H.  P.  Dwight 
came  to  Canada  in  1847  from  Oswego, 
New  York,  near  which  town  he  was 
born.  He  had  passed  several  years 
in  a  country  store,  learned  the  art, 
then  novel,  of  telegraphic  signalling, 
and  made  application  to  the  Montreal 


CANADIAN  CELEBRITIES 


313 


Telegraph  Company  for  employment. 
This  company  was  at  that  time  laying 
the  foundation  of  the  system  which 
has  since  spread  so  minutely  over 
eastern  Canada  and  the  northern 
United  States.  After  serving  for  a 
while  in  Belleville  and  Montreal  he 
was  sent  in  1849  as  telegraph  man- 
ager to  Toronto,  where  he  has  ever 
since  resided.  This  was  before  the 
days  of  railways  to  the  West.  Stage 
coaches  on  land,  boats  on  the  canals 
and  water-stretches  of  the  Lakes  and 
St.  Lawrence,  were  the  then  means  of 
travel  and  mercantile  commerce. 
There  was  but  a  single  wire  line  of 
telegraph  at  that  date  between  Quebec 
and  Toronto. 

Mr.  Dwight  was  not  long  in  per- 
ceiving the  possible  future  magnitude 
of  the  telegraph  business  in  Upper 
Canada.  He  urged  upon  his  company 
the  building  of  lines  in  various  direc- 
tions. Its  authorities  were  not  slow 
to  receive  his  suggestions,  and  showed 
their  estimate  of  his  value  by  making 
him  in  1852  the  Western  Superintend- 
ent. He  covered  the  territory  in  a 
few  years  with  thousands  of  miles  of 
wire  extending  from  the  Ottawa  to  the 
Detroit  rivers,  from  the  Georgian  Bay 
to  Lake  Ontario,  as  well  as  into  the 
States  of  Maine,  Vermont,  New  York 
and  Michigan.  Indeed,  the  Montreal 
Telegraph  Company  became  known 
from  Lake  Michigan  to  the  Gulf  of 
St.  Lawrence,  for  the  minuteness  of 
its  connections  and  the  promptness  of 
its  service. 

Meanwhile,  opposition  had  devel- 
oped. The  Dominion  Telegraph  Com- 
pany had  been  formed  in  1871,  and 
proceeded  to  "  cut  rates."  Not  con- 
tent with  sending  telegrams  of  ten 
words  700  miles  for  a  quarter  dollar, 
the  competitive  company  put  into  force 
a  20  cent  rate.  The  result  was  disas- 
trous to  the  profits  of  both  companies. 
They  could  not  earn  dividends,  and 
something  had  to  be  done  to  save  their 
properties  from  destruction.  This 
something  took  the  shape  of  a  consoli- 
dation of  the  wires  of  both  companies 
in  1 88 1  under  the  charter  of  the  Great 
Northwestern    Telegraph   Company,  a 


Manitoba  organisation,  largely  through 
the  efforts  of  Mr.  Erastus  Wiman. 
That  gentleman  became  president  of 
the  new  company,  and  Mr.  Dwight 
was  appointed  its  general  manager. 
With  infinite  labour  and  pains  Mr. 
Dwight  and  his  assistants  welded  the 
three  systems  into  one,  consolidating 
the  whole  into  a  single  organisation, 
touching  in  the  East  the  Atlantic 
Ocean,  in  the  West  the  shores  of 
Lake  Winnipeg.  In  round  figures  its 
offices  numbered  2,000,  namely,  920 in 
Ontario,  610  in  Quebec,  250  in  Mani- 
toba, the  Maritime  Provinces,  and  the 
states  above  named.  Nowhere  in  the 
world,  probably,  is  there  a  system  of 
telegraphs  superior  to  that  of  Canada 
in  cheapness  of  rate  and  efficiency  of 
working.  And  this  is  largely  Mr. 
Dwight's  work. 

The  opinion  of  Mr.  Dwight  upon 
any  point  of  telegraphic  administration 
is  widely  valued  by  his  confreres  in 
other  countries;  and  he  numbers 
among  his  correspondents  the  heads 
of  departments  in  the  telegraph  and 
cable  services  in  England,  Australia, 
Newfoundland  and  the  United  States. 
Mr.  W.  H.  Preece  of  London,  Mr. 
Ward  of  the  cable  service,  Col. 
Clowry  of  the  Western  Union,  and 
Mr.  Chandler  of  the  Postal  Company 
in  New  York,  have  often  owned  the 
benefit  of  his  clear-headedness  and 
experience.  He  has  also  done  good 
service  in  assisting  the  develop- 
ment of  electric  lighting  and  power 
transmission  in  Canada,  and  is  to-day 
a  vice-president  of  the  Canadian 
General  Electric  Company. 

Mr.  Dwight  may  hardly  be  described 
as  a  genial  man;  rather  should  he  be 
called  a  grave  and  earnest  man.  He 
has  his  moods,  when  he  seems  un- 
gracious, sometimes  abrupt,  but  he  is 
rarely  unjust.  Like  every  strong  man, 
he  has  strong  likes  and  dislikes,  but 
he  is  eminently  fair-minded;  and  of 
the  thousands  of  persons  who  have  in 
fifty  years  been  in  his  employ  surpris- 
ingly few  bear  him  any  ill  will;  hun- 
dreds, certainly,  have  benefited  by  hi^ 
correction  or  advice.  The  writer  of  this 
paper  is  proud  to  join  with  his  brother- 


314 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


telegraphers,  past  and  present,  who 
have  been  the  subjects  of  Mr.  Dwight's 
encouragement  not  less  than  his  dis- 
cipline. 

In  the  midst  of  the  varied  activities 
brought  upon  him  by  his  wide-spread 
business,  Mr.  Dwight  has  found  time 
for  duties  imposed  by  his  conscientious 
conception  of  citizenship.  Many  a 
letter  has  he  contributed  to  the  press, 
under  his  well-known  signature 
"D.W."  upon  matters  of  moment  to 
the  City  of  Toronto.  And  many  a  good 
cause,  benevolent  or  sanitary,  has 
profited  by  his  efforts.  For  years  it 
has  been  observed,  too,  that  wherever 
a  good  lecture  was  to  be  heard,  a  good 
play  or  a  picture  exhibition  seen,  Mr. 
Dwight  was  invariably  ^  patron.  For 
he  is,  and  always  has  been,  an  alert 
man,  with  eyes  and  ears  open  to  what 
is  going  on.  One  of  the  most  striking 
voluntary  testimonials  of  a  community 
to  an  individual  member  was  the  ban- 
quet given  him  at  the  Toronto  Club  in 
1897.  Distinguished  men  in  Montreal, 
New  York,  Chicago,  Ottawa,  and 
various  other  cities  vied  with  Toronto 
citizens  to  do  him  honour  on  the  oc- 
casion of  his  completing  fifty  years  in 
the  Telegraph  service. 

Those  who  see  him  to-day,  taking 
his  customary  long  walks,  erect  and 
observant,  or  who  find  him  in  his 
office,  clear-headed  and  keen-eyed, 
would  little  dream  that  this  man  of 
threescore  and  fifteen  years  was  in  his 
youth  delicate.  It  was  in  fact  a  con- 
dition of  his  existence  in  early  man- 
hood that  he  should  live  much  in  the 
open  air;  and  his  own  good  sense 
showed  him  the  benefit  of  careful 
dietary  habits  and  regular  exercise. 
Forty  years  ago  he  fitted  up  in  the 
old  Exchange  Building,  now  the  Im- 
perial Bank  head  office,  a  gymnasium" 
in  the  operating  room  for  the  benefit 
of  the  telegraph  staff  as  well  as  him- 
self; he  took  fencing  lessons  and  be- 
came a  good  boxer;  learned  billiards; 


rode  on  horse-back  across  country ; 
tried  sail-boating  and  of  late  years 
bicycling.  A  fondness  for  the  woods 
has  long  possessed  him,  and  he  was 
one  of  a  group  who  were  among  the 
earliest  to  find  out  the  charms  of  the 
Muskoka  district  in  deer-hunting  and 
trout-fishing.  He  has  even  became 
an  expert  salmon  fisher.  None  of 
these  things,  however,  has  been 
allowed  to  interfere  with  his  attention 
to  business.  A  portion  of  each  after- 
noon or  night  of  his  life  was  always 
given  to  reading — for  his  book-shelves 
are  well-filled  and  he  keeps  well  abreast 
of  the  times  in  solid  reading.  Thirty 
odd  years  ago  he  was  presented  by  his 
admirers  with  a  testimonial  library  of  a 
thousand  volumes. 

A  prodigious  appetite  for  work  has 
always  been  shown  by  Mr.  Dwight. 
"  In  the  early  years  of  the  telegraph 
service,"  says  Mr.  Easson,  who  is  to- 
day Press  Superintendent,  "he  per- 
sonally received  and  sent  all  the  mes- 
sages and  despatches,  kept  the  books, 
took  charge  of  the  cash,  waited  on 
customers,  and  in  a  word  transacted 
all  the  business  of  the  company  at 
Toronto."  Very  methodical  he  was, 
and  has  all  his  life  been,  keen  besides 
to  know  all  that  was  to  be  known 
about  his  profession;  and,  having,  as 
all  men  must  who  expect  to  receive 
advancement,  a  brain  large  enough  to 
permit  him,  while  not  neglecting  his 
daily  task,  to  grasp  the  opportunities 
of  growth   which   time  brings    about. 

If,  as  Carlyle  sonrewhere  has  it, 
*' literary  men  are  a  perpetual  priest- 
hood," may  we  not  say  that  men  who 
carry  on  worthy  works  on  a  great  scale 
deserve  to  be  called  an  order  of  pastors 
and  masters  in  the  material  world — 
the  builders  of  inanimate  wonders, 
who  have  "  wrought  with  greatest 
care  each  unseen  part;"  not  because 
the  Gods  see  everywhere,  but  for  no 
other  reason  than  a  sense  of  duty  and 
of  joy  in  their  work. 


# 


James  Hedley 


IS    GREAT    BRITAIN     PREPARING 

FOR    WAR? 

By   THE  EDITOR 


[HE  present  moment  in  inter- 
national affairs  is  fraug^ht 
with  great  danger  to  the 
British  Empire.  Three 
years  ago  the  British  gov- 
ernment entered  into  an  alliance  with 
Japan  which  was  an  almost  necessary 
preliminary  to  Japan's  attack  upon 
Russia  and  the  invasion  of  Manchuria. 
The  "Man  in  the  Street"  welcomed 
the  Japanese  Alliance  because  it  was 
likely,  he  thought,  to  strengthen  Brit- 
ain's influence  in  Eastern  Asia.  He 
quite  overlooked  the  fact  that  if  Japan 
went  to  war  with  Russia,  Russia  would 
be  likely  to  lay  the  blame  upon  Great 
Britain.  When  Russia  lays  blame  on 
any  person  the  verdict  is  rendered 
without  a  trial.  That  is  the  Russian 
method.  Will  Russia  now  turn  on 
Great  Britain  for  her  vengeance?  If 
not  now,  when? 

So  long  as  Japan  continues  to  keep 
the  Russians  busy  the  attack  on  Brit- 
ish territory  may  be  delayed.  And 
Japan  is  doing  very  well.  Port  Arthur 
has  fallen.  The  Japanese  fleet  is  still 
mistress  of  the.  eastern  seas.  The 
Japanese  armies  have  not  lost  a  single 
battle  or  beaten  a  single  retreat.  How 
long  will  this  success  continue?  Is  it 
conceivable  that  in  the  end  Japan,  with 
infinitesimal  resources,  shall  win 
against  Russia,  with  inexhaustible 
resources?  Is  the  miracle  of  David 
and  Goliath  to  be  repeated  in  the 
twentieth  century? 

The  successes  of  the  Japanese  arm- 
ies in  1904  are  not  likely  to  be  dupli- 
cated in  1905.  As  the  London  Spec- 
tator points  out,  their  victories  have 
always  been  incomplete. 

"  They  have  been  successful,  it  is  true,  but 
they  have  not  been  successful  enough.  They 
have  beaten  the  Russians  in  ever>'  important 
action,  but  every  action  has  been  a  Pyrrhic 
victory.  They  have  never  surrounded  and 
destroyed  or  taken  prisoners  a  Russian  force 
of  any  size,  and   their  capture   of  §^ins    and 


material  have  been  insignificant.  If  they 
have  always  overcome  the  Russians  in  the 
field,  the  Russians  have  always  been  able  to 
fall  back  with  their  forces  practically  intact- 
But  bv  the  oft  repeated  process  the  Russians 
have  been  converting  themselves  into  a  new 
army.  What  was  raw  material  nine  months 
ago  has  been  hammered  out  by  the  Japanese 

(>•■   '1' nil  of  war,  and    has   become    lem- 

Nothing,  indeed,  has  been  more 
I-  than  this  gradual  improvement 
<i  ,r  iig  the  war  in  the  fighting  efficiency  of  the 
Kii--.ians.  It  is  no  exaggeration  to  say  that 
their  army  is  ten  times  more  efficient  than  it 
was  last  spring." 

There  has  been  no  Japanese  victory 
of  a  "crushing"  nature,  no  Sedan,  no 
Waterloo.  The  Japanese  generals  are 
great  men,  but  not  one  is  a  genius. 
They  have  produced  no  Cromwell, 
no  Napoleon,  no  Von  Moltke.  The 
Japanese  are  heroic  fighters  and  are 
well  led — but  that  is  not  enough.  Yet 
that  other  element  is  lacking.  The 
Japanese  army  must  fight,  must  ^o 
forward;  and  yet  every  day's  delay 
means  an  increase  in  the  obstacle  which 
faces  them — the  growing  Russian 
army. 

On  the  sea  the  Japanese  success  is 
quite  overwhelming.  When  the  war 
opened  the  Russians  had  a  fleet  in  the 
Yellow  Sea  which  was  not  much  infer- 
ior to  that  which  Japan  put  under  the 
command  of  Admiral  Togo.  If  the 
Russian  admiral  had  been  given  a  fair 
chance,  with  any  kind  of  decent  sup- 
port on  the  part  of  his  officers,  he 
should  have  been  able  to  fight  it  out 
with  Togo  in  such  a  way  as  to  cripple 
the  Japanese  fleet  and  make  it  an  easy 
prey  for  the  Baltic  Squadron.  Instead 
of  doing  this  he  was  told  to  remain 
within  Port  Arthur,  his  sailors  were 
turned  into  soldiers,  and  his  ships 
were  destroyed  by  the  enemy's  shells 
or  scuttled  with  their  o*i'n  explosives. 
How  ignominious! 

The  command  of  the  sea  was  neces- 
sary to  Japan.  The  destruction  of  the 
Japanese    fleet    would   mean   that  the 


3»6 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


Japanese  army  of  500,000  men  in  Man- 
churia would  be  as  rats  in  a  trap.  The 
capture  of  Port  Arthur  would  have 
been  useless  if  the  Russian  fleet  had 
been  intact  upon  the  high  seas.  For- 
tunately for  Japan  Russia  blundered, 
as  she  had  done  in  the  Crimean  War. 
She  sacrificed  a  fleet  to  save  a  fortified 
port,  and  lost  both.  Japan  won  the 
mastery  of  the  sea  and  the  mastery  of 
the  port  followed  as  a  natural  conse- 
quence. 

Will  the  Baltic  fleet  win  back 
what  Russia  has  lost?  The  best  opin- 
ion is  unfavourable.  A  schedule  of  the 
vessels  in  the  various  classes,  as  com- 
pared by  the  military  writers  of  the 
London  Chronicle  and  other  leading* 
journals  would  be  about  as  follows: 


Figure  of  merit 

per  ship.             Russian, 

Japanese. 

1. 00 

Borodino 

Mikasa 

Orel 

Shikishima 

SuvarofF 

Asahi 

Alexander  III 

^^ 

Osliabia 

.90 
.80 
.60 

Fuji 
Iwate 

Sissoi  Veliky 

Idzumo 

Asama 

Tokiwa 

Yakuma 

Azuma 

Nisshin 

•50 

Bayan  (V) 
Gromoboi  (V) 
Navarin 

Kasuga 

.40 

Roosia  (V) 

Chin  Yen 

.30 

Oleg 
Aurora 

'25 

NakhimofF 

Takasago 
Chitose 

.20 

I  vessel 

Kasaji 
8  vessels 

.10 

2  vessels 

4  vessels 

Note — The  vessels  marked  V  are  at  Vladi- 
vostock. 

Summing  up  the  figures  of  merit,  the 
Russian  Baltic  and  Vladivostock  fleets 
combined  are  represented  by  8.65,  the 
Japanese  fleet  by  11.75.     The  chances 


are  thus  seen  to  be  greatly  in  favour 
of  Japan,  even  were  the  Baltic  and 
Vladivostock  fleets  combined.  With- 
out the  three  cruisers  at  Vladivostock 
the  Baltic  fleet  is  only  7.25. 

The  general  opinion  seems  to  be 
that  the  Baltic  fleet  will  be  recalled 
and  will  remain  at  Libau  till  more 
ships  are  built  or  secured.  Thus 
Japan's  supremacy  in  Pacific  waters 
will  not  be  seriously  threatened  in 
1905.  Her  armies  may  now  go  on 
and  see  what  another  campaign  will 
produce. 

To  return  to  the  main  point,  what 
eff"ect  will  this  new  situation  have  on 
the  relations  between  Great  Britain 
and  Russia?  It  does  not  seem  likely 
that  Russia  will  risk  her  Baltic  fleet  in 
a  fight  with  the  British  fleet.  Yet 
Great  Britain  seems  to  be  preparing 
for  such  a  possibility.  She  is  strength- 
ening her  Home  Squadrons.  There  is 
little  danger  of  an  attack  on  Esqui- 
mau or  on  Halifax  or  Bermuda;  hence 
most  of  the  vessels  on  these  two 
stations  have  been  recalled.  If  she  is 
not  afraid  of  the  Baltic  Fleet  why 
this  strengthening  of  the  Home  Squad- 
rons? The  only  possible  answer  is 
that  Russia  might  induce  Germany 
and  France  to  combine  for  an  attack 
on  the  British  fleet.  This  is  a  possi- 
bility; but  with  the  information  at 
hand  it  is  hardly  more.  The  German 
Emperor  has  never  approved  of  the 
Russian-Japanese  conflict,  and  France 
has  recently  settled  most  of  her  con- 
troversies with  Great  Britain. 

There  is  a  possibility  of  a  European 
war,  and  Great  Britain  is  wisely  pre- 
paring for  it.  The  fall  of  Port  Arthur, 
the  complete  destruction  of  the  Rus- 
sian Port  Arthur  fleet,  and  the  general 
tendency  of  modern  diplomacy  all  indi- 
cate that  this  \yar  will  not  occur  for 
some  years  yet;  whether  it  will  ever 
happen  is  for  future  events  to  decide. 


HOW  TO  SAVE  THE  YUKON 

WHERE   A    BILLION    DOLLARS'   WORTH    OF   GOLD    IS    IN    SIGHT 

By  C.   M.    VVOODWORTH 


ITH  but  few  exceptions, 
since  1783,  the  rulers  of 
Canada  cannot  congratu- 
late themselves  on  their 
knowledge  and  alertness 
in  regard  to  our  Western  hinterland. 
A  returned  Yukoner  is  invariably 
amazed  at  the  invincible  ignorance  of 
Eastern  Canadians  regarding  the  Yu- 
kon. Numerous  incidents  even  among 
those  in  high  places  could  easily  be 
given. 

There  is,  moreover,  almost  no  source 
of  information,  except  returned  Yukon- 
ers  and  the  country  itself.  No  gov- 
ernment pamphlets  are  issued  at  all 
comparable  with  the  British  Columbia 
annual  report  of  the  Minister  of  Mines 
or  Official  Bulletin  No.  19,  or  the  pub- 
lications of  the  Australian  governments. 
Therefore  exact  figures  and  even  gen- 
eral information  are  not  easily  ob- 
tained. 

GENERAL 

Yukon  is  much  larger  than  Great 
Britain.  Gold  is  its  principal  product 
and  gold  placer  mining  its  principal 
industry.  The  Yukon  River  is  its 
great  highway,  and  the  Yukon  River 
fleet  is  valued  at  more  than  $2,500,000. 
Until  lately,  for  the  past  six  years,  the 
Territory  has  had  a  population  in  excess 
of  20,000  white  people.  It  has  already 
produced  more  than  $125,000,000  in 
value  of  placer  gold,  and  has  imported 
about  $45,000,000  worth  of  goods. 
The  Klondike  gold  discoveries  were 
made  in  August,  1896,  and  after  eight 
years  of  wonderful  production,  two 
predictions  are  being  made  :  the  one, 
that  the  known  riches  of  the  Territory 
are  nearly  worked  out  and  the  country 
is  on  the  rapid  decline  with  no  hope 
of  recovery  ;  the  other,  that  only  the 
richer  pockets  of  gold  gravels  have 
been  worked  and  these  but  partially, 
while  the  greater  part  of  the  gold- 
bearing  gravels  have  not  been  touched, 


and  under  wise  management  the  Terri- 
tory has  only  begun  its  development. 
The  discovery  of  the  Klondike  gold- 
fields  is  directly  attributable  to  the 
encouragement  given  the  prospector  by 
the  amendments  of  the  placer  regula- 
tions in  1894,  based  upon  the  report  of 
Major  Constantine  to  the  government 
in  that  year.  Previous  to  that  time, 
most  of  the  prospecting  was  done 
on  the  Alaska  side  of  the  boundary, 
owing  to  the  much  more  liberal  min- 
ing laws  of  that  district.  The  result 
of  these  amendments  has  been  the 
creation  of  the  Yukon  Territory,  and 
all  that  it  has  meant.  The  repeal 
of  these  amendments  and  the  restrict- 
ive mining  laws  in  force  from  1897  to 
the  present  time  have  again  driven 
out  the  prospectors.  New  discoveries 
practically  ceased  in  1899.  ^^^  Terri- 
tory can  only  be  revived  by  the  intro- 
duction of  more  liberal  laws  and  wiser 
administration. 

TRUE  PRINCIPLES 

Gold  mining  in  the  Yukon  is  not  the 
mere  extraction  of  gold  from  a  govern- 
ment store-house.  It  is  the  discovery 
and  production  of  wealth  that,  but  for 
its  discovery  and  mining,  would  be 
utterly  valueless.  In  the  lottery  of 
Yukon  mining,  there  have  been  some 
grand  prizes,  but  the  average  awards 
have  not  more  than  adequately  paid 
the  labour  of  prospecting  and  mining. 
Taxes  on  gold  production  are  taxes  on 
labour.  Restrictions  on  prospecting 
and  gold  mining  in  the  Yukon,  are 
restrictions  on  labour  and  a  premium 
on  non-development  of  a  region  that 
without  labour  is  a  desolate,  uninvit- 
ing, chilly  waste. 

GOLD  PRODUCTION 

The  Dominion  government  returns 
show  the  annual  production  of  Yukon 
gold  as  follows  : 


3t8 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


1885-1896 $  1,538,400 

1897 2,500,000 

1898 10,000,000 

1899 . .  16,000,000 

1900 22,275,000 

1 90 1 18,000,000 

1902 14,500,000 

1903 1 2,250,000 

1904  will  be  about 10,000,000 


Total $107,063,400 

These  returns  are  evidently  too 
small.  The  receipts  of  Yukon  gold 
by  the  United  States  mints,  and  the 
observations  of  bankers  and  other 
Yukoners,  competent  to  judge,  cor- 
roborate this  statement.  At  least, 
$10,000,000  must  be  added  to  the  re- 
turns for  each  of  the  years  1898 
and  1899,  and  another  $10,000,- 
000  should  be  distributed  over  the 
returns  for  the  other  years.  The 
royalty  tax,  while  it  existed,  was  a 
constant  incentive  for  the  concealment 
of  the  true  figures.  Every  fair  test 
fixes  the  total  at  about,  or  in  excess  of, 
$130,000,000.  The  entire  placer  out- 
put of  British  Columbia  from  1858  to 
1903  inclusive  was  $65,688,103  or 
about  one-half  our  Klondike  output 
for  eight  years.  If  we  add  the  total 
lode  output  of  British  Columbia  up  to 
the  end  of  1903  to  the  placer  output, 
we  have  in  all  $92,550,454.  To  the 
present,  the  total  gold  output  of  Nova 
Scotia  has  been  about  $14,000,000, 
while  that  of  Ontario  and  Quebec 
jointly  has  approximated  $3,000,000. 
It  will  thus  be  seen  that  Canada's 
title  to  be  ranked  as  a  great  gold- 
producing  country  is,  in  the  greater 
part,  its  Yukon  title. 

YUKON  MARKET 

"  The  Yukon  is  the  best  cash  market 
Canada  ever  had.  The  value  of  goods 
imported  into  the  Yukon  annually  can 
only  be  approximated.  A  great  part 
of  these  goods  were  Canadian,  and 
some  of  the  foreign  goods  paid  duty 
in  other  parts  of  Canada.  Again,  the 
importations  in  some  years  were  in 
excess  of  the  consumption  and  in 
others  less.  I  have  it  on  the  best 
possible  authority  that  the  value  of 
the  goods  brought   into  the   Territory 


in  the  year  1902-3  was  close  to  $6,000,- 
000.  This  was  the  year  of  the  great 
falling  off  in  the  gold  output.  We 
may  fairly  suppose  a  perhaps  lesser 
shrinkage  in  the  imports.  In  estimat- 
ing the  imports  of  other  years  we 
must  consider  the  great  rush  of  people 
with  their  outfits  to  the  gold-fields  in 
1898,  the  heavy  importations  of  ma- 
chinery beginning  in  1899  and  reach- 
ing its  maximum  in  the  years  1900  and 
1901,  and  the  great  slaughter  of  old 
stocks  by  Dawson  merchants  in  the 
year  1904.  The  values  of  the  im- 
ports must,  therefore,  be  nearly  as 
follows  : 

1885-1896 $30,000  annually  $    360,000 

1897 2,000,000 

i8g8 7,000,000 

1899 7,000,000 

1900 8,000,000 

1901 7,500,000 

1902 6,000,000 

'903 5,500,000 

1904 2,500,000 


Total    $45,860,000 

If  this  trade  had  been  entirely  with 
countries  outside  Canada  it  would 
have  yielded  from  $10,000,000  to  $13,- 
000,000  in  customs  revenue.  If  the 
gold  raised  were  solely  for  residents 
out  of  Canada,  this  customs  tax  and 
other  taxes  raised  directly  from  the 
country,  amounting  to  about  $8,000,- 
000  in  all,  less  the  cost  of  the  adminis- 
tration of  the  Territory,  would  be  the 
fair  measure  of  the  total  value  of  the 
Yukon  to  Canada  thus  far.  The 
real  facts  are,  however,  much  more 
composite.  Almost  the  entire  Yukon 
gold  output  has  been  shipped  to  the 
United  States,  returning  in  small 
part  as  gold  coin  minted,  our  bankers 
will  say,  free  of  cost  to  us.  About 
one -third  of  the  Yukon  fortunes 
saved  were  those  of  residents  of 
Canada,  the  other  two-thirds  went 
mostly  to  the  United  States.  The 
imports  till  the  end  of  the  year  1899, 
were  at  least  two-thirds  from  the 
United  States.  Since  that  year  about 
two-thirds  have  come  from  other  parts 
of  Canada,  the  proportion  in  favour  of 
Canada  growing  larger  each  year. 
Seattle    has   benefited  more  from   the 


HOW  TO  SAVE  THE  YUKON 


3^9 


Yukon  than  any  other  four  cities  com- 
bined. When  the  Yukon  rush  took 
place,  Canada  was  without  steamboat 
communication  with  the  Lynn  Canal  or 
the  mouth  of  the  Yukon.  As  usual, 
we  were  three  years  behind  time.  A 
subsidy  granted  to  a  line  of  steamboats 
from  Vancouver  to  Skagway  in  1897 
might  have  brought  Vancouver  the 
benefits  that  went  to  Seattle.  Regard- 
ing the  value  of  the  Yukon  to  Canada, 
except  in  taxes,  Canada  was  certainly 
not  alert.  Police,  soldiers,  tax- 
gatherers,  and  railways  one  thousand 
miles  away,  engrossed  the  attention  of 
Canadian  statesmen,  while  Seattle 
reaped  the  immediate  benefit  of 
Yukon  trade  and  Yukon  fortunes. 
Moreover,  there  have  always  been 
those  competent  to  judge,  who  as- 
sert that  had  the  interior  adminis- 
tration been  as  it  should  have  been, 
both  the  Yukon  trade  and  population 
would  have  multiplied  five  times  and 
the  Territory  would  have  rivalled  the 
whole  of  the  United  States  as  a 
Canadian  market,  paying  cash  instead 
of  barter.     This  cannot  be  proven. 

TAXES 

Yukoners  have  paid  heavier  taxes 
than  any  other  British  subjects.  Ac- 
cording to  Government  returns  there 
was  collected  in  the  Yukon  for  the 
year  ending  June  30th,  1901,  $1,814,- 
827.91,  of  which  $360,686.36  was 
customs  and  $730,819.35  gold  royalty. 
If  we  assume  that  one-third  of  the 
customs  duties  paid  on  goods  brought 
into  the  Yukon  were  paid  at  points 
outside  the  Yukon,  we  should  add  a 
further  $180,343. 18,  making  a  total  of 
$1 ,995, 170.09,  or  about  $100  per  head 
for  every  man,  woman  and  child  in  the 
Territory.  The  taxes  of  the  Yukon 
have  been  nearly  as  follows : 

1885-96 $    250,000 

1897 350,000 

1898 . .  .',000,000 

1899. ..                            ..  -',000,000 

1900 .',000,000 

1901. 1,500,000 

1902 1, 100,000 

1903 900,000 

1904 700,000 

Total $1 1,250,000 


Those  who  believe  that  taxes  are 
paid  by  the  consumer  will  find  a  simple 
case  in  the  Yukon,  as  goods  are  paid 
for  in  gold  and  not  in  barter.  Such 
persons  will  add  two-thirds  as  much 
more  in  computing  the  burden  Yukon 
has  borne. 

THE  FUTURE 

Is  the  Klondike  region  nearly 
worked  out  and  the  Yukon  as  a  placer 
camp  about  ended?  This  question 
seems  uppermost  regarding  the  Yukon 
with  most  Canadians.  If  the  con- 
ditions and  methods  prevailing  in  1898 
were  still  in  vogue,  the  answer  would 
be,  "Yes."  Then  drifts  paying  less 
than  $8.00  to  the  cubic  yard  or  five 
cents  to  the  pan  of  gravel  were 
abandoned,  while  it  required  double 
that  amount  of  pay  to  be  an  incentive 
to  the  ordinary  miner.  $1,000  pans 
were  often  found  on  the  rich  creeks 
and  great  fortunes  were  made  in  a  few 
months.  The  results  from  some 
workings  were  marvellous.  Wages 
were  $15.00  per  day.  No  machinery 
was  used.  Such  abnormal  conditions 
evidently  could  not  long  continue. 

If,  however,  the  present  conditions, 
obst.icles,  and  methods  continue,  the 
answer  is:  "No,  but  the  output  will 
gradually  and  rapidly  decrease,  unless 
new  strikes  are  made,  and  this  is 
hardly  likely  as  the  prospector  has 
been  legislated  and  administered  out 
of  the  Territory."  Ground  yielding 
two  cents  per  pan  or  $3. 25  to  the  cubic 
yard  is  now  considered  as  good  pay, 
while  a  drift  bearing  half  that  pay 
would  not  be  abandoned  if  the  pay- 
streak  were  continuous  and  not  too 
thin.  It  would  be  hard  to  find  a  work- 
ing claim  in  which  the  frozen  gravel  is 
not  thawed  by  steam.  On  most 
claims  the  pay  gravel  is  hoisted  and  a 
large  part  of  the  work  is  done  by 
steam  and  machinery.  Steam  shovels 
and  hydraulic  works  are  used  in  some 
places,  but  are  not  common.  The 
ambiguity  of  the  mining  regulations 
breeds  constant  litigation.  This  liti- 
gation has  obtained  decisions  from  the 
courts,  that  the  title  of  placer  claims 
is   for  one   year  only  and    the    yearly 


330 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


grant  may  be  renewed  or  refused  re- 
newal at  the  option  of  the  adminis- 
tration. A  free  miner  who  stakes 
vacant  lands  cannot  force  the  issue  of 
a  grant.  Since  1901,  till  1904,  ditch 
owners  have  not  been  allowed  to  sell 
water  to  other  miners.  It  is  quite 
apparent  that  all  this  does  not  tend  to 
encourage  capital  in  the  installation  of 
costly  mining  machinery  or  the  digging 
of  ditches  for  hydraulic  works.  It 
does  not  even  give  the  ordinary  miner 
a  fair  chance. 

But  the  above  question  with  the 
promise  that  taxes  will  be  lightened, 
that  titles  will  be  made  good,  that  the 
mining  laws  will  be  made  plain,  that 
the  prospector  will  be  encouraged  and 
miners'  grievances  wiped  out,  will 
admit  of  but  one  reply :  Yukon  has 
only  just  begun  its  development  and 
the  success  of  the  future  will  dwarf 
into  insignificance  the  results  of  the 
past.  As  has  been  said,  by  the 
methods  now  in  common  use  only 
gravels  going  from  $2.00  per  yard 
and  upward  are  commonly  worked, 
but  with  the  steam  shovels  and  feeble 
hydraulic  workings  already  installed 
they  have  already  worked  ground  at  a 
profit  yielding  fifty  cents  to  the  cubic 
yard  on  the  average.  In  California 
and  other  hydraulic  countries,  they  have 
worked  at  a  profit,  gravels  yielding 
less  than  ten  cents  to  the  cubic  yard. 
The  remoteness  of  the  Territory  and 
the  fact  that  much  of  the  gravel  is 
frozen  will  prevent  such  cheap 
workings  in  the  Yukon.  Less  than 
twenty-five  cents  to  the  cubic  yard 
should,  however,  pay  handsomely. 
Now  in  the  region  lying  within  one 
hundred  miles  Itast  of  Dawson  there 
are  more  than  fifty  square  miles  of 
hills  carrying  a  depth  of  from  twenty- 
five  to  one  hundred  and  twenty-five 
feet  of  pay  gravels  which  will  yield 
an  average  of  more  than  twenty- 
five  cents  to  the  cubic  yard.  At  least 
twenty  square  miles  of  hills  in  the 
Klondike  basin  are  much  richer.  One 
square  mile  of  Paradise  Hill  on 
Hunker  Creek  will  produce  fifty  million 
of  dollars,    of  which  ^ne-half  will  be 


profit.  The  gravel  on  this  and  other 
hills  is  one  hundred  feet  deep  and 
carries  pay  throughout  and  several 
feet  into  bedrock.  The  hills  of  the 
Klondike  basin  will  produce  more  than 
eight  hundred  millions  of  dollars, 
while  those  of  the  Indian  and  Stewart 
River  districts  will  produce  at  least 
half  as  much.  They  will  be  worked 
by  hydraulics.  The  first  cost  of 
bringing  water  on  the  Klondike  hills 
will  not  exceed  five  millions  of  dollars. 
A  number  of  smaller  systems  will 
supply  the  Indian  River  and  Stewart 
Hills,  the  ultimate  cost  of  which  would 
not  equal  that  of  the  Klondike  water 
system. 

So  much  for  the  hills.  The  older 
creeks  have  already  been  worked  over 
to  a  large  extent  by  wasteful  methods. 
Many  promising  creeks  have  not  been 
prospected.  These  old  claims  will  in 
future  be  worked  over  by  steam  shovels 
or  by  hydraulic  elevators,  and  will  pro- 
duce one-half  as  much  more  as  they 
have  already  produced.  The  total 
amount  of  their  future  production  is 
hard  to  estimate. 

The  above  estimates  of  future  pro- 
duction are  based  upon  what  is  already 
in  sight.  But  what  if  the  prospector 
should  return?  He  practically  left  the 
Yukon  in  1899.  To  get  him  back  in- 
ducements greater  than  were  offered 
before  must  be  given.  Yet  with  just 
and  liberal  laws  well  administered,  the 
prospector,  the  miner,  and  the  capital- 
ist should  again  throng  into  the 
Yukon,  but  in  far  greater  numbers. 
The  average  Klondike  miner  more  or 
less  clearly  understands  the  possibili- 
ties of  his  country.  He  knows  that 
hundreds  of  millions  of  dollars  will  yet 
be  produced  from  that  region.  His 
unrest  and  dissatisfaction  arise  from 
the  fact  that  he  believes  that  if  the 
administration  and  laws  were  imme- 
diately improved,  he  could  largely 
share  in  those  millions.  He  looks 
upon  the  country  as  his  by  right  erf 
discovery  and  occupation.  The  laws 
will  be  improved  some  time;  he  insists 
this  should  be  done  before  he  is  forced 
to  leave. 


ROBERTS  AND  THE   INFLUENCES  OF 

HIS  TIME 

By  JAMES  CAPPON,  Professor  of  English,   Queen's  University 


III.— POETRY  OF  NATURE.     TANT- 
RAMAR   REVISITED 

HE  training  which  Hob- 
erts  received  in  the  school 
of  Keats  was  mainly  that 
of  a  nature  poet.  The  un- 
derlying reality  in  the  neo- 
classical idyll  was  its  beautiful,  if  rather 
fanciful,  treatment  of  nature,  which 
was  based,  just  as  that  of  the  ancient 
idyll  had  been,  on  a  free  selection  of 
all  fine  pastoral  images  untramelled 
by  conditions  of  climate  or  locality. 
The  poet  might  revel  in  any  combina- 
tions of  scenery  which  his  imagination 
suggested  as  long  as  he  could  give 
the  whole  the  harmony  which  here 
took  the  place  of  reality.  The  oceans 
might  be  as  serene  and  the  Arcadian 
hunting  ranges  as  wild  as  he  liked  : 

With  muffled   roarings  through  the  clouded 

night, 
And    heavy    splashings    through    the    misty 

pools. 

Of  course  he  had  chosen  the  school 
because  it  gave  a  splendid  form  to  his 
own  natural  instincts  as  a  poet.  His 
real  power,  his  original  impulse  to- 
wards poetry,  lies  nearly  altogether  in 
the  region  of  nature  description,  and 
it  was  a  short  and  natural  step  for  him 
to  take  from  the  fanciful  delineations 
of  nature  in  Orion  and  Aciceon  to  the 
description  of  actual  Canadian  scenes. 
But  it  involved  in  his  case  a  decided 
change  in  the  forms  of  poetic  composi- 
tion. The  grand  framework  of  epic 
and  idyllic  narrative,  which  he  could 
use  when  he  had  that  shadowy  Arcad- 
ian mythology  to  fill  it  with  the  shapes 
of  life,  was  laid  aside.  We  have  no 
modern  idylls  like  Goethe's  Hermann 
and  Dorothea  or  Tennyson's  Enoch 
Arden  from  him.  So  also  the  large 
framed  7  or  9  line  pentameter  stanza, 
and  the  strophe  of  Keats,  with  its  rich 
rhyme  and  the  long  cadences  which 
murmured  of  'old  Cretan  melodies'  or 


»•« 


the  Javan  palm,  give  place  to  light, 
popular  quatrains  and  couplets  and  the 
half  lawless  structure  of  the  short-line 
stanza.  It  was  a  change  which  had 
already  taken  place  very  generally  in 
the  poetry  of  our  time,  as  part  of  that 
return  to  nature  and  simplicity  of  form 
which  had  begun  with  Wordsworth. 
Our  new  singers  seem  no  longer  will- 
ing  to  support  the  weight  of  those 
grand  forms  of  stanzaic  verse  which 
the  great  poets  of  the  Italian  Renaiss- 
ance and  all  those  who  followed  their 
traditions  loved  so  well.  The  sonnet, 
with  its  well-established  paces,  is  about 
the  only  great  traditional  form  in  use 
now. 

It  is  a  kind  of  light  lyrical  and  de- 
scriptive verse  which  is  the  most  char- 
acteristic form  of  Roberts'  productiv- 
ity at  this  period.  Pleasant  little 
snatches  of  song  like  Birch  and  Pad- 
dle, On  the  Creek,  A  Song  of  Cheer, 
Aylesjord  Lake,  The  Brook  in  February, 
An  August  Wood  Road,  In  the  After- 
noon; charming  glimpses  of  Canadian 
scenery,  with  a  general  simplicity  of 
style  and  trait  which  recalls  the  old 
lyrical  school  of  Longfellow  and 
Whittier  : 

Afar  from  stir  of  streets, 
The  city's  dust  and  din, 

What  healing  silence  meets 
And  greets  us  gliding  in  ! 

Our  light  birch  silent  floats  ; 

Soundless  the  paddle  dips. 
Yon  sunbeam  thick  with  motes 

Athro'  the  leafage  slips. 

That  is  from  Birch  and  Paddle. 
Aylesford  Lake,  however,  has  more  of 
the  silvery  cadence  and  smooth  work- 
manship of  Tennyson  : 

All  night  long  the  light  is  lying 
Silvery  on  the  birches  sighing, 

All  night  long  the  loons  are  crying 
Sweetly  over  Aylesford  Lake. 

The  Solitary  Woodsman,  a  little  idyll 
of  Canadian  life  which  haunts  the  mind 
after  you  have  read  it,  as  true  poetry 


322 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


will,  may  be  noticed  here,  although  it 
was  published  at  a  later  time  in  The 
Book  of  the  Native  {1897).  The 
Woodsman  represents  nearly  all  that 
Roberts  has  given  us  in  the  way  of 
human  portraiture,*  and  even  his  per- 
sonality, it  must  be  admitted,  is  of  the 
faintest.  But  there  is  a  beautiful 
simplicity  and  naturalness  about  the 
poem. 

All  day  long  he  wanders  wide 
With  the  grey  moss  for  his  guide, 

And  his  lonely  axe-stroke  startles 
The  expectant  forest  side. 

Toward  the  quj^t  close  of  day 
Back  to  camp  he  takes  his  way 

And  about  his  sober  footsteps 
Unafraid  the  squirrels  play. 

On  his  roof  the  red  leaf  falls, 
At  his  door  the  blue  jay  calls. 

And  he  hears  the  wood  mice  hurry 
Up  and  down  his  rough  log-walls : 

Hears  the  laughter  of  the  loon 
Thrill  the  dying  afternoon, — 

Hears  the  calling  of  the  moose 
Echo  to  the  early  moon. 

It  needed  only  a  touch  more  to  make 
that  solitary  woodsman  as  universal 
and  popular  a  portrait  as  Longfellow's 
Village  Blacksmith,  a  touch  more  of 
personal  detail  and  moral  character- 
isation. A  contemplative  delicacy  of 
feeling  for  nature  is  the  chief  charac- 
teristic of  the  poems  of  this  class  and 
they  are  best  when  they  remain  simply 
descriptive. 

In  many  of  these  poems  Mr. 
Roberts  has  gone  back  both  in  style 
and  sentiment  to  the  older  and  simpler 
schools  of  lyrical  poetry  so  different  in 
their  naive  tunefulness  and  gay  move- 
ment from  the  poets  of  to-day  with 
their  heavily  essenced  verse  and  de- 
liberate mysticism.  There  are  airs 
from  Herrick  in  him  as  well  as  from 
Tennyson.  At  times  he  even  gives  us 
popular  lyrics,  true  folk-rhythms  like 
The  Stack  Behind  the  Bam  or  In  the 
Bam- Yard's  Southerly  Comer,  mostly 
modelled  on  old  English  lilts,  with 
catching  refrains.  These  belong  to 
that   poetry    of   tender    reminiscence, 

*Of  course  there  are  the  ballads  with  a  few 
figures  in  them  slightly  touched.  But  ballad 
poetry  of  this  kind  is  a  naive  and  archaic 
form  of  presenting  life  which  does  not  properly 
come  into  question  here. 


memories  of  boyhood,  the  pathetic 
note  of  which  has  often  been  struck  so 
truly  by  our  minor  singers.  You  can 
hear  the  true  note  of  it  in  the  forgotten 
poetry  of  Miss  Blamire  as  well  as  in 
Burns  or  in  Heine's  Mein  Kind,  wtr 
waren  Kinder: 

To  wean  me  frae  these  woefu'  thoughts 

They  took  me  to  the  toun  : 
But  sair  on  ilka  weel-kenned  face 

I  missed  the  youthfu"  bloom. 

At  balls  they  pointed  to  a  nymph 

Wham  a'  declared  divine : 
But  sure  her  mother's  blushing  cheeks 

Were  fairer  far  langsyne. 

Roberts  is  vigorous  and  picturesque 
enough  in  his  barn-yard  lilts  and  oc- 
casionally catches  a  fine  refrain 

Oh,  merrily  shines  the  morning  sun 
In  the  barn-yard's  southerly  corner. 

But  he  wants  the  soft  note  and  in- 
genuous simplicity  proper  to  this  kind 
of  poetry.  There  is  almost  too  much 
vigour  of  accent  and  too  evident  a 
determination  in  the  accumulation  of 
details: 

Dear  memory  of  the  old  home  farm — 
The  hedge-rows  fencing  the  crops  from  harm  ; 
The  cows,  too  heavy  with  milk  for  haste; 
The  barn-yard,  yellow  with  harvest  waste 
And  the  stack  behind  the  barn. 

Indeed  I  hardly  think  this  plaintive 
note  is  so  natural  to  the  age  or  the 
country  as  it  was  to  the  Doric  songs 
of  old  Scotland.  -  The  weight  of  the 
past  does  not  lie  so  heavily,  so  pathet- 
ically, on  our  eager  and  aspiring  de- 
mocracies. 

Amongst  all  these  varieties  of  the 
Canadian  idyll,  the  one  which  leaves 
the  strongest  impression  on  the  mind 
of  originality  in  tone  and  treatment  is 
Tantramar  Revisited.  Here  Roberts' 
classical  taste  in  style  again  asserted 
itself,  though  in  the  not  very  pure  form 
of  the  modern  hexameter.  Longfellow 
had  given  the  measure  popular  cur- 
rency on  this  continent  in  his 
Evangeline,  and  Mathew  Arnold  had 
lately  been  directing  the  attention  of 
literary  circles  to  its  possibilities. 
Both  he  and  the  poet  Clough  had 
done  something  to  rescue  it  from  the 
monotonous  softness  of  Longfellow's 
movement  and   give  it  more  strength 


ROBERTS  AND  THE  INFLUENCES  OF  HIS  TIME 


z^: 


and  variety.  Roberts,  who  has  never 
quite  lost  his  first  love  for  the  grand 
style,  was  quick  to  profit  by  the 
lesson  and  uses  this  high  but  some- 
what artificial  form  as  a  mould  in 
which  to  pour  his  tenderest  memories 
of  the  scenes  familiar  to  his  youth 
on  the  coast  of  New  Brunswick. 
There  is  no  direct  picture  of  life  in  the 
poem,  not  a  single  human  figure,  but 
the  landscape  is  powerfully  painted  in 
large,  distant,  softened  traits,  the  true 
colour  of  elegiac  reminiscence.  Of 
direct  elegiac  reflection  the  poet  has 
been  sparing,  perhaps  wisely,  but 
what  there  is  has  a  sincerity  which 
shows  how  deeply  he  felt   his  subject. 

Summers  and  summers  have  come  and  };one 

with  the  flight  of  the  swallow; 
Sunshine  and  thunder  have  been,  storm  and 

winter  and  frost ; 
Many  and    many  a  sorrow  has  all  but  died 

from  remembrance, 
Many  a  dream  of  joy  fall'n  in  the  shadow  of 

pain. 

Hands  of  chance  and  change  have  marred,  or 

moulded,  or  broken, 
Busy  with  spirit  and  flesh,  all  I   have  most 

adored  ; 
Even    the   bosom   of  Earth    is    strewn    with 

heavier  shadows — 
Only  in  these  green  hills,  aslant  to  the  sea, 

no  change. 

Yonder,  toward  the  left,  lie  broad  the  West- 
moreland marshes, — 

Miles  on  miles  they  extend,  level,  and  grassy, 
and  dim. 

Clear  from  the  long  red  sweep  of  flats  to  the 
sky  in  the  distance. 

Save  for  outlying  heights,  green-rampired 
Cumberland  Point  ; 

Miles  on  miles  outroUed,  and  the  river-channels 
divide  them, — 

Miles  on  miles  of  green,  barred  by  the  hurtling 
g^sts. 

Now  at  this  season  the  reels  are  empty  and 

idle  ;  I  see  them 
Over  the  lines  of  the  dykes,  over  the  gossi[>- 

ing  grass. 
Now  at  this  season  they  swing  in  the  long 

strong  wind  through  the  lonesome. 
Golden  alternoon.   shunned   by  the   forag;ing 

gulls. 

Soon  thro'  their  dew-wet  frames,  in  the  live 
keen  freshness  of  morning. 

Out  of  the  teeth  of  the  dawn  blows  back  the 
awakening  wind. 

Then  as  the  blue  day  mounts,  and  the  low- 
shot  shafts  of  the  sunlight 

Glance  from  the  tide  to  the  shore,  gossamers 
lAwellad  with  dew 


Sparkle  and   wave,   where   late  sea-spoiling 

fathoms  of  drift-net 
Myriad-meshed,  uploomed  sombrely  over  the 

land, 
Well  I  remember  it  all.     The  salt,  raw  scent 

of  the  margin; 
While,   with  men  at   the  windlass,    groaned 

each  reel,  and  the  net. 
Surging   in    ponderous   lengths,    uprose   and 

coiled  in  its  station; 
Then  each  man  to  his  home, — well  I  remember 

it  all! 

In  spite  of  the  exotic  character  of 
the  verse,  which  after  all  is  a  bar  to 
the  highest  qualities  of  expression, 
something  of  the  visionary'  eye  and 
depth  of  feeling  with  which  the  poet 
looks  on  those  scenes  of  his  boy- 
hood gets  into  every  line.  The  poem 
is  a  true  whole  also  and  speaks  in  a 
subtle  way  to  the  heart.  Perhaps  he 
has  lavished  the  resources  of  his  style 
a  little  too  freely  on  that  description  of 
the  empty  net  reels.  Its  luxuriance  is 
rather  overpowering. 

At  the  best  this  imitation  of  a  classi- 
cal measure  is  a  strong  compelling 
mould  which  is  apt  to  draw  the  poet 
into  iterations  and  to  carry  him  further 
than  he  wishes  at  one  time  while  rein- 
ing him  up  unduly  at  another.  Mr. 
Roberts  manages  to  use  it  with  some 
freedom  and  naturalness,  but  it  is  at 
the  cost  of  some  rough  lines,  lines 
overloaded  with  awkward  spondees  or 
technically  impure  and  sometimes  fall- 
ing out  of  metre  altogether.  This 
is  particularly  the  case  with  the  pen- 
tameter variation  which  he  uses,  fol- 
lowing Clough's  example  in  Amours 
de  Voyage.  It  is  designed  of  course  to 
afford  some  relief  from  the  monoton- 
ously majestic  stride  of  the  hexameter 
and  allow  the  poet  to  escape  into 
plainer  cadences.  Roberts  often  uses 
it  somewhat   recklessly  : 

Stained    with    time,    set   vrarm   in  orchards, 

meadows  and  wheat, 
or 

Golden  afternoon,  shunned   by  tb«  foraging 
gulls. 

But  often,  too,  he  is  the  victor  in 
the  struggle  that  this  measure  particu- 
larly excites  between  the  metrical 
mould  and  the  natural  idiom  of  lan- 
guage, as  in  that 

Busy  with   spirit  and  flesh,  all  I  have  most 
adored. 


324 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


IV.— SONGS   OF   THE   COMMON    DAY, 

A  SONNET  SEQUENCE.    THE  NEW 

POETIC  DICTION 

lYI R.  ROBERTS  has  tried  a  great 
^^  variety  of  tones  and  themes  in  the 
course  of  his  poetic  career  ;  no  poet  so 
many,  that  I  know  of.  But  the  deepest 
thing  in  his  poetic  passion  and  experi- 
ence is  his  poetry  of  nature  description. 
Its  basis  is,  in  general,  a  pure  aesthet- 
icism,  for  though  it  may  occasionally 
be  mingled  with  some  fanciful  train  of 
thought  or  have  appended  to  it  a 
Wordsworthian  moral,  its  value  lies 
wholly  in  the  gleaming  and  glancing 
surface  which  it  brings  before  the 
reader's  eye.  This  impressionistic 
nature  poetry  is  the  best  part  of  his 
old  Keatsian  heritage  for  one  thing, 
and  it  is  part  perhaps  of  his  best  days 
also,  the  days  he  describes  in  Tantra- 
mar  Revisited,  long  youthful  days 
spent  on  the  coast  or  amongst  the 
farmsteads  of  New  Brunswick,  when 
he  strove  hardest  to  catch  and  to 
shape  into  some  new  line  the  vague, 
evasive,  elemental  beauty  of  nature. 
The  power  which  he  acquired  then  has 
never  deserted  him  amongst  all  the 
transformations  of  spirit  and  liter- 
ary ideals  which  he  has  experienced. 
Touches  of  it  abound  everywhere  in 
his  poems.  He  has  always  the  glance 
and  vision  in  this  region.  The  task 
before  him  at  this  period,  as  he  must 
have  felt,  was  to  find  a  high  and  com- 
plete form  of  expression  for  this  power. 
This  was  not  so  easy,  for,  as  one 
might  guess  from  his  general  evasion 
of  the  subject  except  in  some  remote 
legendary  form,  he  had  little  or  no 
faculty  for  the  direct  presentation  of 
human  life,  and  of  itself  this  impres- 
sionistic power  would  hardly  suffice  to 
furnish  forth  an  idyll  or  an  elegy.  He 
had  done  the  feat  once  in  Tantramar 
Revisited,  but  it  could  not  easily  be 
repeated.  It  was  a  happy  inspiration, 
therefore,  which  made  him  think  of 
putting  his  poetic  impressions  of  Ca- 
nadian pastoral  life  and  scenery  to- 
gether in  the  form  of  a  sonnet  se- 
quence. Some  of  these  sonnets  had 
been  published  earlier  in  an  independ- 
ent form,  and  were  doubtless  written 


without  any  thought  of  a  sequence, 
but  in  1892  they  appeared  as  part  of  a 
collection  under  the  title  of  Songs  of 
the  Common  Day. 

The  Sonnet  Sequence  is  a  poetic 
form  which  unites  a  certain  harmony 
of  effect  with  entire  independence  in 
the  treatment  of  each  member  of  the 
series.  It  is  a  succession  of  short 
efforts  with  a  continuity  of  aim  which 
is  capable  of  producing  in  the  end 
something  of  the  effect  of  a  great 
whole.  It  has  the  authority  of  great 
literary  traditions  from  Petrarch  to 
Wordsworth,  and  it  seems  to  be  nearly 
the  only  grand  form  of  composition 
which  the  poetry  of  to-day  can  attempt 
with  success.  In  this  form  then  Mr. 
Roberts  describes  for  us  the  general 
aspects  of  life  and  nature  as  one  might 
see  them  at  some  Canadian  farmstead, 
near  the  coast  of  New  Brunswick,  I 
suppose — spring  pastures  and  summer 
pools,  burnt  lands  and  clearings,  fir 
forests  and  the  winter  stillness  of  the 
woods,  mingled  with  descriptions  of 
the  common  occupations  of  farm  life, 
milking  time  and  mowing,  the  potato 
harvest,  bringing  home  the  cattle  and 
the  like,  all  in  a  kind  of  sequence  from 
spring  sowing  to  midwinter  thaw. 

The  poet,  I  need  hardly  say,  finds  a 
splendid  field  here  for  the  impres- 
sionistic glance  and  vision.  Look  at 
this  description  of  a  September  after- 
noon : 

A  mystic  rune 
Foreboding-  the  fall  of  summer  soon, 
Keeps  swelling  and  subsiding^;  till  there  seems 
O'er  all  the  world  of  valley,  hill  and  streams. 
Only  the  wind's  inexplicable  tune. 

Or  at  this,  from  the  sonnet  Where 
the  Cattle  Come  to  Drink: 

The  pensive  afterthoughts  of  sundown  sink 
Over  the  patient  acres  given  to  peace; 
The  homely  cries  and  farmstead  noises  cease, 
And  the  worn  day  relaxes,  link  by  link. 

If  these  passages  were  found  in 
Wordsworth,  say  in  the  series  of  son- 
nets on  the  Duddon,  they  would  be 
quoted  by  everyone  as  fine  and  subtle 
renderings  of  the  moods  of  nature. 
Another  striking  example  of  Roberts' 
gift  in  this  direction  is  to  be  found  in 
the   last    sonnet    of    the    series,    The 


ROBERTS  AND  THE  INFLUENCES  OF  HIS  TIME 


3^5 


Flight  of  the  Geese. 
in  full: 


I  shall  quote  it 


I  hear  the  low  wind  wash  the  softening  snow, 
The  low  tide  loiter  down  the  shore.     The 

night, 

Full  filled  with  April  forecast,  hath  no  light. 

The  salt  wave  on  the  sedge-flat  pulses  slow. 

Through  the  hid  furrows  lisp  in   murmurous 

flow 

The  thaw's  shy  ministers;  and  hark!    The 

height 
Of    heaven    grows   weird    and    loud   with 
unseen  flight 
Of  strong  hosts  prophesying  as  they  go. 

High  through  the  drenched  and  hollow  night 
their  wings 
Beat  northward  hard    on    winter's  trail. 
The  sound 
Of  their  confused  and  solemn  voices,  borne 
Athwart  the  dark  to  their  long  arctic  morn, 
Comes    with    a    sanction    and    an    awe 
profound, 
A  boding  of  unknown,  foreshadowed  things. 

The  purist  might  find  fault  with  the 
strong  lyrism  of  that  sonnet  and  with 
inelegancies  like  that  thrice  repeated 
overflow  from  two  final  words  of  the 
same  structure,  but  it  is  a  splendid 
piece  of  imaginative  impressionism 
and  a  fine  example  of  Roberts'  power 
of  style  in  this  field. 

Many  of  these  sonnets  have  a 
luxuriance  of  style  and  fancy,  par- 
ticularly in  the  direction  of  what 
Ruskin  has  called  the  Pathetic  Fallacy, 
which  is  perhaps  excessive  for  this 
poetic  form  with  its  small  compass; 
but  some  of  them  also  show  a  new 
plainness  of  style  and  treatment  indi- 
cating that  realistic  influences  from 
Wordsworth  are  beginning  to  work  on 
Roberts.  Sometimes  there  is  even  a 
kind  of  roughness  in  the  manner  of 
giving  details,  as  in  the  following  from 
The  Potato  Harvest: 

Black  on  the  ridge,  against  that  lonely  flush, 
A  cart  and  stoop-necked  oxen  ;  ranged 

beside 
Some  barrels  ;  and  the  day-worn  harvest 

folk, 
Here  emptying  their  baskets,  jar  the  hush 
With  hollow  thunders.     Down  the  dusk 

hillside 
Lumbers  the  wain ;  and   day   fades   out 

like  smoke. 

The  Furrow  and  In  an  Old  Bam  are 
also,  in  part  at  least,  examples  of  this 
closer,  more  realistic  treatment. 
Here,  too,  I  may  notice  The  Sower,  the 


poet's  popular  masterpiece,  which  hits 
the  golden  mean  between  austerity  and 
luxuriance  of  style: 

A  brown,  sad-coloured  hillside,  where  the  soil. 
Fresh   from  the   frequent   harrow,    deep 

and  fine, 
Lies  bare ;  no  break  in  the  remote  sky- 
line. 
Save  where  a  flock  of  pigeons  streams  alofl, 
Startled  from  feed  in  some  low-lying  croft, 
Or  far-off  spires  with  yellow   of  sunset 

shine; 
And  here  the  sower,  unwittingly  divine. 
Exerts  the  silent  forethought  of  his  toil. 

Alone  he  treads  the  glebe,  his  measured  stride 

Dumb  in  the  yielding  soil ;  and  though 
small  joy 

Dwell   in  his  heavy  face,  as  spreads  the 
blind. 
Pale  grain  from  his  dispensing  palm  aside, 

The  plodding  churl  grows  great  in  his 
employ  ; 

Godlike,    he    makes  provision   for  man- 
kind. 

The  selection  and  treatment  of  ma- 
terials in  that  sonnet  are  perfect.  It 
is  equally  free  from  unleavened  real- 
ism of  detail  and  from  impressionistic 
finery,  from  those  over  -  feathered 
shafts  of  phrase  which  hang  so  heavy 
on  the  thought  in  sonnets  like  The 
Summer  Pool  and  A  Vesper  Sonnet. 
The  traits  are  select,  harmonious  and 
firmly  drawn,  with  a  wise  economy  of 
stroke.  The  manner  in  which  the  eye 
is  conducted  from  the  solitary  field  to 
the  distant  horizon,  where  lies  that 
world  of  men  for  whom  the  sower 
works,  and  then  concentrated  again  on 
the  scene  of  the  sower's  labour  and 
his  movements,  is  a  good  illustration  of 
the  simplicity  and  naturalness  of  a 
perfect  piece  of  art.  The  closing 
thought  is  noble  and  true  to  the  sub- 
ject, reflecting  itself  powerfully  back 
on  the  previous  details  in  a  way  which 
gives  them  new  significance. 

Technically  Mr.  Roberts'  sonnets 
generally  show  something  of  the 
structural  freedom  and  something  also 
of  the  looseness  of  conception  which 
are  characteristic  of  American  son- 
nets. The  rhyme  system  as  a  rule 
is  the  pure  Petrarchan,  but  as  often 
as  not  he  entirely  disregards  the 
division  of  thought  in  the  two  quat- 
rains of  the  octave.  Sometimes  the 
poise    and    counterpoise    of    thought 


326 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


between  the  octave  and  sestet  is 
strong^ly  marked,  the  first  containing 
the  descriptive  part  and  the  second 
the  moral  which  the  poet  appends  to 
it.  At  other  times  the  division  is  but 
faintly  felt,  though  it  often  exists  in  a 
form  which  is  virtually  a  new  type  of 
sonnet  structure.  In  this  type  the 
octave  gives  the  general  outline  of  a 
landscape  and  is  followed  by  a  sestet 
which  gives  a  more  particular  descrip- 
tion of  some  characteristic  or  signifi- 
cant object  in  it.  This  is  the  structural 
character  of  The  Herring  Weir,  The 
Oat  Threshings  The  Sower,  The  Flight 
of  the  Geese,  and  other  sonnets.  In 
this  way  the  old  function  of  the  sestet 
in  summing  up  or  pointing  the  signifi- 
cance of  the  octave  is  revived  in  a  new 
form,  and  when  the  object  thus  selected 
for  particular  treatment  is  significant 
enough,  and  its  connection  with  the 
description  in  the  octave  evident  and 
inevitable,  this  arrangement  makes  an 
excellent  type  of  sonnet.  It  is  part  of 
the  perfection  of  The  Soioer  that  the 
connection  between  the  landscape  de- 
scribed in  the  octave  and  the  object 
described  in  the  sestet  is  of  this  natural, 
inevitable  kind.  But  The  Sower  per- 
haps owes  something  of  the  selectness 
and  harmony  of  its  details  to  the  fact 
that  the  subject  is  one  which  has  been 
worked  over  by  more  than  one  great 
mind  in  the  sister  arts  of  painting  and 
engraving.  It  is  a  curious  example  of 
the  relation  which  may  occasionally 
exist  between  poetry  and  the  other 
fine  arts,  and  Roberts  may  be  counted 
fortunate  in  having  furnished  a  per- 
fect literary  expression  for  a  concep- 
tion on  which  Diirer  and  Millet  had 
laboured. 

On  the  whole  this  sonnet  sequence 
may  be  considered  as  the  most  im- 
portant poetic  work  Mr.  Roberts  has 
so  far  produced.  It  represents  in  its 
highest  form  what  is  most  original  in 
him,  that  in  which  his  experience  is 
deeper  than  that  of  other  men.  It 
gives  the  fairest  scope,  too,  for  that 
impressionistic  painting  of  nature  in 
which  he  is  a  master.  The  general 
tone  of  these  sonnets  is  that  of  a 
pensive    melancholy    such   as     arises 


naturally  enough  from  the  contem- 
plation of  quiet  pastoral  morns  and 
eves.  Grey  Corot-like  pictures  they 
mostly  are,  often  a  little  huddled  and 
indistinct  or  indeterminate  in  their 
outlines  but  delicately  tinted  and  suf- 
fused with  a  true  Canadian  atmosphere 
of  light  and  space  and  wide,  pale,  clear 
horizons.  It  is  an  atmosphere  which 
keeps  the  colour  tone  of  the  landscape 
low,  or  at  least  cool,  with  nothing  of 
tropical  luxuriance  about  it,  the  bloom 
of  the  golden-rod,  of  the  clover,  the 
buttercups  and  the  great  purple 
patches  of  fire-weed  in  the  woods  being 
tempered  by  the  cold  clear  lustre  of  a 
northern  sky  and  the  pale  verdure  of 
the  marshes.  The  general  features  of 
nature  in  eastern  Canada  are  faithfully 
reflected  in  these  sonnets,  sometimes 
in  exquisite  bits  of  verse. 

The  power  of  observation  which 
they  show,  however,  is  by  no  means 
of  a  close,  informative  kind,  but  rather 
of  the  large,  vague,  impression- 
gathering  order.  There  is  much  less 
piquancy  or  novelty  of  detail  than  we 
might  expect.  Here  and  there  we 
have  a  plain  yet  tender  line  like 

A  barn  by  many  seasons  beaten  gray. 

But  very  seldom  does  the  poet 
delight  us  by  raising  a  homely  feature 
into  poetic  significance.  It  is  not  too 
much  to  say  that  these  sonnets,  with 
all  their  brilliant  impressionism,  hardly 
enrich  our  sense  of  Canadian  rural  life 
with  more  than  some  fine  scenic 
images.  This  narrow  range  of  ob- 
servational power  is  evident  in  the 
absence  of  any  direct  treatment  of 
human  life,  of  human  as  distinguished 
from  naturalistic  sentiment,  and  helps 
to  deprive  this  sonnet  series  of  popular 
and  realistic  elements.  In  the  sonnet 
Mowing,  for  example,  there  are  fine 
bits  of  impressionism  : 

This  is  the  voice  of  high  midsummer's  heat. 
The    rasping,    vibrant    clamour    soars    and 
shrills. 

The  "crying  knives"  are  noticed  at 
their  work,  the  "fate  that  smote"  the 
clover  and  the  timothy  tops  is  men- 
tioned, and  the  sestet  takes  a  flight  to 
describe  the  action   of  the  sun  which 


ROBERTS  AND  THE  INFLUENCES  OF  HIS  TIME  327 


"with  chemic  ray  seals  up  each  cordial 
essence  in  its  cell,"  and  thus  imprisons 
the  ''spirit  of  June"  to  cheer  the 
cattle  some  winter's  day  "in  their 
dusky  stalls. "  But  there  is  no  mention 
of  mowers;  there  is  no  human  figure 
in  the  field.  This  artistic  asceticism 
may  be  serviceable  in  obtaining  a  cer- 
tain purity  of  impressionistic  effect, 
as  it  is  in  the  landscapes  of  some  of 
the  Barbizon  school  of  painters.  But 
for  poetry  at  least  the  example  of 
Millet  is  probably  better  than  that  of 
Rousseau,  as  Roberts  himself  has 
proved.  At  any  rate  this  is  almost 
sufficient  of  itself  to  make  a  severance 
between  Roberts  and  the  public  of  our 
time,  which  seems  to  demand  a 
vigorous  presentation  of  life  as  the  first 
condition  of  its  listening  to  any  ideal 
or  imaginative  strain  the  poet  may 
have  to  sing  to  it. 

Nor  is  the  poetry  of  these  sonnets 
likely  to  make  any  strong  appeal  to  a 
more  philosophically  minded  class  of 
readers,  that  class  which  ultimately 
came  to  the  support  of  Wordsworth 
and  his  austerely  contemplative  Muse. 
The  sonnet  sequence  hardly  leaves  any 
strong  unity  of  moral  impression  on 
our  minds.  There  is  a  want  of  basal 
note  in  Roberts  in  this  respect  which 
makes  his  poetry  little  more  than  a 
wavering  impression  taken  from  the 
surface  of  things  and  giving  no  com- 
fort, no  stay  to  the  mind.  The  mor- 
alisings  which  the  poet  occasionally 
introduces  into  the  sestet  are  either 
commonplace  or  very  fanciful,  or  easily 
recognised  as  the  well-known  vein  of 
some  great  poet.  The  moral  appended 
to  The  Cow  Pasture  is  Browning's 
recognition  of  imperfection  as  a  stim- 
ulus; that  of  Where  the  Cattle  Come 
to  Drink  is  Wordsworth's  oft- preached 
"dignity  of  common  toil;"  those  of 
The  Cicada  in  the  Firs,  The  Oat- 
Threshtng  ^nd  The  Autumn  Thistles  are 
coldly  or  cheaply  wrought  fantasies. 
But  Mr.  Roberts  is  weakest  in  the 
altitudes  of  meditative  thought,  as  in 
The  Stillness  oj  the  Frost.  "Such," 
he  says,  after  describing  the  "  frost- 
white  wood"  and  "  the  ineffable  pallor" 
of  the  blue  sky — 


Such,  I  must  think,  even  at  the  dawn  of  Time 
Was   thy   white   hush,    O  world,  when   thou 

lay' St  cold, 
Unwaked    to    love,   new  from  the   Maker's 

word. 
And  the  spheres,  watching,  stilled  their  high 

accord 
To  mar\el  at  perfection  in  thy  mould. 
The  grace  of  thine  austerity  sublime! 

That  is  Robert  Pollok  come  again  and 
the  forgotten  sublimities  of  The  Course 
of  Time. 

With  all  his  gifts,  then,  Roberts 
evidently  lacks  two  things  without 
which  a  poet  in  our  day  cannot  take  a 
strong  hold  of  the  public.  He  does 
not  as  a  poet  give  us  either  a  lively, 
vigorous  presentation  of  life  or  a  pro- 
found and  critical  interpretation  of  it. 

Roberts'  poetry,  one  may  see,  re- 
mains very  much  a  pure  literary  tradi- 
tion, the  element  of  natural  impulse 
in  it  being  hardly  strong  enough  to 
make  original  moulds  for  itself.  His 
diction,  in  particular,  owes  much  to 
literary  tradition;  it  is  that  of  a  school, 
the  school  of  impressionistic  descrip- 
tion which  arose  as  the  aftermath  of 
the  poetry  of  Keats  and  Tennyson.  It 
is  true  he  shows  quite  remarkable 
power  and  facility  in  its  use.  Even 
when  he  approaches  too  perceptibly  to 
the  mould  of  Keats  or  Tennyson,  it  is 
in  the  manner  of  one  who  has  learned 
to  see  and  feel  with  the  master  rather 
than  merely  to  imitate  his  style. 

This  is  a  wonder-cup  in  Summer's  hand. 
Sombre,  impenetrable  round  its  rim 
The  fir-trees  bend  and  brood.     The  noons 
o'erbrim 
The  windless  hollow  of  its  iris'd  strand 
With  mote-thick    sun    and   water-breathings 
bland. 

That  is  from  the  Summer  Pool,  and 
shows  how  cleverly  Roberts  has  made 
his  own  the  luxuriance  and  iridescence 
of  the  master's  style.  But  the  master's 
art  is  always  something  of  a  dangerous 
legacy  to  the  school,  and  the  general 
result,  especially  when  the  biting  verb 
of  Swinburne  and  some  refinements  of 
Rossetti  are  added  to  the  Keatsian 
assortment,  has  been  to  establish  a 
kind  of  poetic  diction  which  has  at 
length  become  just  as  conventional  as 
that  old  diction  of  the  eighteenth  cen- 
tury   which    Wordsworth   drove  from 


328 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


the  field.  The  defects  of  this  school 
are,  in  general,  an  over-fullness  and  in- 
discriminate intensity  of  language  and 
a  love  of  euphuistic  novelties,  which 
are  now  ceasing  to  be  novel  and  are 
hardening,  into  an  artificial  poetic 
vocabulary.  How  often  the  same 
tricksy  word  serves  to  make  the  eflfect: 

A  yellow  hillside  washed  in  airy  seas 
Of  azure, 

Amber  wastes  of  sky 
Washing  the  ridg-e. 

How  the  harsh  stalks  are   washed  with  radi- 
ance new. 

In  this  style  every  trait  is  pressed  to 
the  utmost.  The  "murmuring  streams" 
and  "vocal  reeds"  of  the  i8th  century 
school  have  given  place  to  the  "long- 
drawn  sobbings  of  the  reed-choked 
surge;"  waves  or  waters  no  longer 
wash  the  shore,  they  "pulse;"  the 
dawn  no  longer  chills,  it  "bites;"  it 
does  not  rise,  it  "leaps;"  it  is  nothing 
so  common  as  rosy,  it  may  be  "white," 
however,  but  it  has  more  frequently 
some  elusive  epithet  attached  to  it, 
such  as  "inviolate"  or  "incommunic- 
able," or  "liturgical."  We  no  longer 
seek  or  search,  we  "quest."  Dark- 
ness and  night  "reel,"  the  sea  almost 
always  "sobs"  now,  the  wind,  the 
trees,  the  rain,  all  "sob,"  though 
"grieve"  may  be  admitted  as  a  variety; 
the  sky  is  preferably  "sapphirine" 
now  as  regards  colour,  and  "inviol- 
able" in  ethical  suggestion.  The  si- 
lence of  the  stars  or  the  stillness  of 
the  woods  is  pretty  sure  to  require  the 
use  of  "expectant"  or  "expectancy" 
for  its  interpretation.  Certain  terms 
are  great  favourites,  and  are  called 
on  for  hard  work  of  a  kind  they  were 
not  always  accustomed  to,  as  for  ex- 
ample, "largess,"  "lure,"  "elemental," 
"assuaged  and   unassuaged,"   "sinis- 


ter.," "bourgeoned,"  "tranced," 
"bland,"  "winnowing,"  "throb"  and 
"kiss"  are  common  drudges  in  the 
school.  Privative  forms  have  risen 
into  great  demand,  the  hills  are  "un- 
bowed," abysses  "unsunned,"  prob- 
ably without  any  thought  of  Euripides, 
eyelids  "unlifting;"  in  two  members  of 
the  school  I  noted  "unremembrance." 
All  the  great  poets  of  the  past,  of 
course,  may  contribute  something  to 
this  impressionisticvocabulary.  Shake- 
speare once  made  the  seas  "multitud- 
inous," now  the  voices  of  night,  the 
silences  of  the  forest,  the  hum  of  thor- 
oughfares and  all  similar  phenomena 
are  frequently  "multitudinous;"  we 
even  get  from  one  poet  "the  multitud- 
inous friendfrness  of  the  sea,"  which  is 
probably  not  without  thought  of  JEs- 
chylus.  Wordsworth  once  made  a 
striking  use  of  "incommunicable," 
now  a  slightly  more  elusive  use  of  it 
in  connection  with  "light"  or  "space" 
or  "rhyme"  or  "word"  meets  us  at 
every  turn.  A  fine  discovery  which 
catches  the  fancy  of  the  school  soon 
obtains  its  hall-mark.  In  Henley  the 
river  is  "new-mailed"  in  the  morning 
light,  in  Roberts  the  ice-bound  pools 
are  in  "diamond  mail,"  in  Wilfred 
Campbell  the  river  is  "sun-cuirassed." 
All  this,  of  course,  is  but  the  natural 
history  of  style,  the  evolution  of  a  new 
poetic  diction  which  has  arisen  to  meet 
the  needs  of  modern  poetry  with  its 
more  intimate  sense  of  the  mystery  of 
life  and  nature.  But  it  is  evidently 
beginning  to  harden  in  its  mould,  and 
the  modern  poet  will  have  to  beware 
of  it.  It  has  become  the  mark  of  a 
half-afifected  intensity  of  sentiment  and 
the  expression  of  an  imaginative  in- 
sight which  is  only  derivative  and 
superficial. 


TO     BE     CONTINUED 


"And  grandmothers  busy  with  distaff  and  spindle" 


A  VISIT  TO  GENOA 

By  ERIE  WATERS 


RS.  CLIFFORD  and  her 
daughter  Margaret  had 
lingered  in  Mentone  until 
late  in  March;  and  now  the 
time  had  come  to  leave  its 
tranquil  shore.  How  happy  they  had 
been  here,  and  how  gently  its  beauties 
had  taken  possession  of  their  inmost 
hearts!  When  at  home  once  more  in 
the  bright  Western  World,  there  will 
be  no  danger  of  forgetting;  and  in  the 
years  to  come  their  lives  will  be  the 
richer  for  memories  of  sky  and  sea,  of 
mountains  and  of  flowers.  In  visions 
they  will  see  again  the  wandering 
musicians  and  the  patient  Italian 
peasants  who  help  to  make  Mentone 
and  its  neighbourhood  picturesque. 
They  will  picture  them  in  garments 
of  many  colours  dragging  in  the 
nets;  or  bearing  heavy  baskets  of 
oranges  and  lemons  on  their  heads;  or 
in  groups  at  the  doorways  of  their 
ancient  dwellings,  built  close   against 


the  hillside — so  old  and  grey  that  they 
seem  a  part  of  the  rock  itself;  the 
children  and  maidens  in  the  freshness 
and  beauty  of  their  youth,  the  toil- 
worn  women  of  middle  age,  and  grand- 
mothers busy  with  distaff  and  spindle. 

On  the  morning  that  the  Cliffords 
left  Mentone  for  Genoa,  there  were 
tears  in  the  eyes  of  the  kindly  French 
servants  who  had  done  much  to  make 
their  long  sojourn  comfortable,  and  a 
suspicious  moisture  in  their  own  as 
"good-byes"  were  said. 

Parting  with  friends  at  the  hotel, 
they  set  forth  alone,  but  were  sur- 
prised and  touched  to  find  two  of  their 
fellow- boarders  at  the  station  waiting 
to  see  them  off — the  Polish  widow  and 
the  German  doctor — two  interesting 
young  people  who  were  striving  to  re- 
gain health  in  this  sunny  spot.  The  ac- 
quaintance with  their  friends  had  been 
made  under  difficulties — French  being 
the  imperfect  medium — but  there  was 


3-3*9 


330 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


THE   BEAUTIFUL  CITY   OF   GENOA 
"The  city  is  built  around  a  small  bay,  rising  from  the  water's  edge  to  a  height  of  sixty  feet" 


an  unspoken  sympathy  between  them; 
they  had  laughed  heartily  over  amus- 
ing situations  and  at  funny  mistakes  in 
learning  a  little  of  each  other's  lan- 
guage. And  here  they  were — to  speak 
a  last  kind  word,  and  look  regrets. 

The  first-class  carriages  were  filling 
fast,  but  the  doctor  found  them  places, 
and  as  the  train  moved  off  their  last 
glances  fell  on  two  gentle,  pleasant 
faces,  smiling  farewell.  Would  these 
two  take  the  journey  through  life  to- 
gether, they  wondered,  for  they  had 
watched  a  growing  romance — or  had 
the  brilliant  young  scientist  come  too 
late  to  the  life-giving  sunshine  of 
Mentone? 

The  day  was  perfect — sea  and  sky 
an  exquisite  blue;  fruit  blossoms  and 
wild  flowers  everywhere.  With  the 
exception  of  the  many  tunnels,  the 
journey  along  the  coast  of  Italy  is 
charming  to  a  degree.  Many  little 
towns  are  passed,  typical  of  the  Italian 
Riviera,  perched  on  low  hills,  with  a 
background  of  mountains;  secure  from 
floods,  and  in  olden  days  a  refuge 
from  pirates ;  always,  even  in  the 
smallest  hamlet,   the    church  with  its 


tower-like  steeple  and  the  priest's  house 
near-by. 

Very  old  and  very  dilapidated  are 
many  of  the  houses,  high  and  close 
together  in  narrow,  dark  streets;  always 
bits  of  colour  and  paintings  on  the 
outsides  of  houses,  and  clothing  hang- 
ing out  of  windows. 

They  had  glimpses  of  handsome 
Italians  at  the  stations,  looking  pictur- 
esque in  red  caps  and  blue  shirts;  and 
another  peep  at  Bordighera  on  the  sum- 
mit of  a  hill,  whose  sides  are  covered 
with  olive  trees;  and  of  the  towering 
palms  which  attain  perfection  here, 
some  of  them  being  800  years  old. 
They  are  remunerative  also,  as  Bordig- 
hera has  the  monopoly  of  supplying 
the  palm  branches  for  Palm  Sunday  in 
Rome.  Along  the  coast,  sombre  olive 
groves  made  a  pleasing  contrast  with 
orchards  where  peaches,  cherries  and 
almonds  were  in  full  bloom. 

At  Albenga  they  saw  lemons  trained 
as  espaliers.  Nearing  Genoa  the  gar- 
dens and  villas  became  more  attractive 
and    numerous.     The    Riviera    is  cer- 


tainly pretty — nay,  exquisitely  lovely, 
especially  in  sunshine,  and   the  sea  is 


A   VISIT  TO  GENOA 


331 


fascinating,  ever  changing, 
and  enlivened  by  bird-like, 
white-sailed  boats.  The 
mountains,  too,  take  on 
many  varying  hues. 

Reaching  Genoa,  they 
found  comfortable  quarters 
in  a  good  hotel  command- 
ing a  fine  view  of  the  har- 
bour and  shipping.  Morn- 
ing brought  a  heavy  rain, 
so  the  sight-seeing  began 
from  upper  windows.  A 
forest  of  masts  lay  before 
them  —  ships  from  many 
lands,  flags  of  many  nations. 
Vessels  loading  and  unload- 
ing; numbers  of  small  boat^ 
plying  busily  from  ship  to 
shore — a  busy  and  animated 
scene,  even  in  the  rain.  It 
was  also  amusing  to  watch 
the  streets  where  drays 
drawn  by  three  or  four  don- 
keys, or  mules,  harnessed 
tandem-fashion,  and  each 
with  a  red  covering  for  pro- 
tection from  the  rain,  were 
a  novel  sight. 

At  night  the  harbour  is 
like  a  fairy-scene,  with  hun- 
dreds of  lights  gleaming 
from  the  ships,  from  the 
high  lighthouse,  and  from 
the  buildings  on  shore. 

At  noon  the  sun  shone  brightly,  and 
our  tourists  went  about  the  city. 
Genoa  has  a  population  of  about  180,- 
000,  and  appears  busy  and  prosperous. 
Its  people  are  handsome,  some  of  them 
even  strikingly  beautiful.  The  city  is 
built  around  a  small  bay,  rising  from 
the  water's  edge  to  a  height  of  sixty 
feet.  The  old  part  of  the  town  is  par- 
ticularly interesting,  with  crooked, 
narrow  streets  from  six  to  twelve  feet 
wide,  occasionally  so  steep  that  steps 
are  cut  in  them.  In  the  upper  and 
newer  part  are  fine  buildings,  monu- 
ments and  squares. 

Near  the  harbour  they  walked  about 
the  narrow  streets,  where  in  the  lower 
stories  of  the  high  houses — almost 
underground — are  extraordinary  little 
shops,  evidently  frequented  by  sailors; 


A   MONUMENT,   CAMPO  SANTI,   GENOA 

and  many  a  curious  peep  did  they  have 
into  queer,  dark  mteriors,  where  groups 
in  various  attitudes  and  motley  colours 
made  striking  pictures. 

One  of  the  churches  which  pleased 
Mrs.  Clifford  was  the  cathedral  of  San 
Lorenzo,  dating  from  the  nth  cen- 
tury, but  repeatedly  restored.  The 
exterior  has  alternate  bands  of  black 
and  white  marble,  and  the  twisted, 
spiral  and  straight  columns  are  odd 
and  effective.  The  interior  is  in  dif- 
ferent styles.  They  entered  during  an 
impressive  service,  and  were  struck 
by  the  reverent  attitudes  and  appar- 
ently deep  devotion  of  the  worshippers, 
who  chanted  responses  in  melodious 
voices  as  the  organ  pealed  forth 
sweetly.  The  frescoes  on  the  chancel 
roof  are  by  Severone,  and  are  very 
lovely. 


332 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


MAIN  PORTAL,  CATHEDRAL  SAN  LORENZO,  GENOA 


The  Annunziata  is  another  church  of 
ancient  date,  with  wonderful  marbles. 
Most  harmonious  are  the  colours  in 
this  truly  artistic  whole,  and  red  cur- 
tains draping  upper  windows  add  to 
the  soft  beauty  of  the  light.  Much 
time  was  spent  in  the  Campo  Santo, 
famous  for  its  monuments  of  great 
beauty  and  touching  sentiment. 

One  morning  our  tourists  drove  up 
the  Via  di  Circonvallazioni  to  the  top 
of  the  city,  from  whence  they  looked 
down  upon  town  and  bay,  passing 
parks  fragrant  with  flowers  and  lovely 


in  their  fresh  spring  foliage.  Palms 
and  evergreens  mingled  with  the 
newer,  tender  tints,  while  daisies,  daf- 
fodils, pansies  and  other  early-comers 
raised  their  bright  heads  to  sun  and 
breeze.  The  air  was  warm,  but  more 
bracing  than  that  of  Mentone. 

Margaret  made  a  tour  of  the  shops, 
seeking  souvenirs,  selecting  pretty 
trifles  of  silver  filagree  work,  a  speci- 
alty of  Genoa. 

The  palaces  are  a  great  attraction, 
and  are  very  imposing,  marble  being 
used  extensively.     They  are  lofty,  with 


A    VISIT  TO  GENOA 


333 


THK   CHRISTOPHER   COLUMBLb   MO.SCMfe.Si,    Ok-NOA 


gfates  forty  feet  high;  marble  columns, 
and  halls  and  corridors  beautifully  pro- 
portioned; broad  stairways  of  marble, 
and  courts  paved  with  different  col- 
oured marble;  rooms  thirty  feet  high, 
with  arched  ceilings,  mosaic  floors  and 
artistic  furniture,  with  statuary  and 
paintings  of  great  value  and  beauty  by 
many  of  the  old  masters.  These  were 
a  revelation  to  our  New  World  travel- 
lers, the  colouring  was  so  wonderful. 
Such  blues,  such  reds,  such  harmony, 
of  which  they  had  never  dreamed  ! 
They  bought  photographs  which  gave 


an  idea  of  form  and  expression,  but 
nothing  save  the  original  can  convey 
the  charm  of  colour  that  appeals  to 
one's  best  sense  of  beauty.  They 
were  strongly  impressed  by  Guido 
Reni's  work,  by  Raphael,  Leonardo  da 
Vinci  and  other  great  artists.  Van- 
dyke, with  his  clear,  stern  figures,  they 
also  learned  to  like. 

Going  to  the  university  one  morning 
they  wandered  aimlessly  up  the  grand 
stairway,  which  is  guarded  by  two 
marble  lions,  and  admired  the  lofty 
halls,  statues  and  fine  columns.      Pres- 


334 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


A   MONUMENT,    CAMPO   SANTI,    GENOA 


Columbus  is  very  effective. 
Margaret  had  been  looking- 
for  new  types  in  narrow, 
dirty  and  unsavoury  streets 
and,  seeing  much  poverty, 
was  seized  with  a  fit  of  de- 
pression and  home-sickness. 
Coming  to  this  monument, 
she  exclaimed: 

*'  I  want  to  go  home, 
mother;  and  oh!  how  thank- 
ful I  am  to  dear  old  Colum- 
bus for  discovering  our  nice 
clean  country !" 

"  I  see  a  great  future  for 
our  country,  Margaret,"  her 
mother  answered  thought- 
fully, "for  our  new  land 
where  many  nationalities  are 
welcomed — if  we  start  right- 
ly and,  striving  to  imitate 
the  qualities  that  make  great 
men  in  every  age,  strive  also 
to  avoid  their  mistakes.  We 
have  not  the  rich  historic 
background  of  older  civili- 
sations nor  the  treasures  of 
art  beyond  all  price,  but  we 
may  draw  from  the  wisdom 
of  the  ages." 


ently  they  saw  two  gentlemen,  evi- 
dently a  professor  and  student, 
higher  up  the  stairway,  who  very 
politely  turned  back  and,  speaking 
in  French,  directed  them  to  go  up 
another  higher  stair  where  they 
would  find  an  iron  gate,  which 
would  be  opened  when  they  rang 
the  bell.  Up  they  climbed,  found 
the  gate,  and,  to  their  surprise, 
emerged  into  the  open  air,  to  find 
at  the  roof  (Genoa,  it  must  be  re- 
membered, being  built  on  a  hill)  a 
botanical  garden  and  conservatory; 
the  garden  of  quaint  design,  with 
melancholy  cypress  trees,  stiff 
beds  with  labelled  plants,  and  grass 
bright  with  daisies  and  violets. 
Again  a  magnificent  view  of  the 
fine  harbour  and  city  was  obtained. 
Genoa  has  several  handsome 
monuments,  the  one  in  honour  of 
Mazzini  being  well  placed  in  a 
pretty  park.     That  to  Christopher 


A   STAIRWAY,    UNIVERSITY,    GENOA 


THE  SURRENDER  OF  SITTING  BULL 

JEAN    LOUIS    LEGARE'S    STORY 
By  F.   C.    WADE,  K.  C. 


HE  recent  gfrant  by  the 
United  States  Senate  of  S8,- 
ooo  to  Jean  Louis  Legare 
for  his  services  and  ex- 
penses in  effecting  the  sur- 
render of  Sitting  Bull  to  the  U.S. 
authorities  at  Fort  Buford,  Dakota,  on 
July  2ist,  1881,  recalls  an  interesting 
episode  in  the  Indian  and  military  his- 
tory of  the  United  States  and  Cana- 
dian West  before  the  disappearance  of 
the  buffalo — an  incident  connected 
with,  and  closely  following  upon  the 
dreadful  Custer  massacre. 

About  the  middle  of  May,  1876, 
General  Custer,  in  command 
of  the  seventh  U.S.  Cavalry 
numbering  600  men,  left 
General  Terry  with  orders 
to  proceed  up  the  Rosebud 
and  across  country  to  the 
Little  Big  Horn.  General 
Terry  advanced  to  the  mouth 
of  the  Big  Horn,  where  he 
was  met  by  a  body  of  450 
men  under  General  Gibbon, 
who  had  marched  from  Fort 
Ellis  down  the  Yellowstone. 
Here  the  Generals  joined 
forces  and  ascended  the  Big 
Horn,  and  thence  forty  miles 
upthe  Little  Big  Horn,  where 
they  found  that  two  days  be- 
fore General  Custer  had  had 
an  engagement  with  the  hos- 
tiles,  which  ended  in  the  ab- 
solute annihilation  of  five 
companies  under  his  com- 
mand. Their  arrival  just 
prevented  the  destruction  of 
the  remaining  seven  com- 
panies under  Major  Rend, 
and  they  returned  to  the 
mouth  of  the  Big  Horn,  leav- 
ing behind  259  dead  and  tak- 
ing with  them  53  wounded. 
After  the  massacre  im- 
mense bands  of  Sioux,  fear- 
ing swift    and    terrible  ret- 


ribution at  the  hands  of  the  United 
States  army,  crossed  the  international 
boundary  and  camped  near  Wood 
Mountain  post,  a  point  in  Assiniboia, 
just  over  the  line  from  Montana.  At 
that  point,  Jean  Louis  Legar6,  a 
French-Canadian  of  the  Province  of 
Quebec,  had  a  trading  post  which  he 
had  established  in  1870. 

On  the  I  ith  January,  1877,  the  U.S. 
Government  was  notified  by  Inspector 
Walsh,  of  the  Canadian  Mounted  Po- 
lice, at  Cypress  Hills,  that  109  lodges 
of  American  Sioux  had  crossed  the 
boundarv    near    Wood    Mountain  and 


sitting;   bill — ta-tol-ka-t-yo-toc-ka 

The  United  States  Indian  who  caused  the  Canadians  much 
anxiety  from  1877  to  1881 


336 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


\\^^^^L 

^k 

1^ 

^^^MmT^^^Uti^^ 

^^  '*35 

LT.-COL.    J.    F.    MCLEOD,    C.M.G, 

Commissioner  N.W.M.  Police  at  time  of  Sitting 
Bull's  visit  to  Canada 


were  camped  on  the  British  side.  Later 
the  number  of  lodges  increased  rapidly, 
and  later  still  they  were  joined  by  Sit- 
ting Bull.  It  is  at  this  point  that 
Legare's  story  begins. 

His  account  of  the  arrival  of  the 
American  Sioux  near  his  post  is  un- 
usually dramatic.  "  It  was  in  the 
afternoon  of  the  17th  of  December, 
1876,"  he  says.  "  It  was  very  cold. 
I  was  in  my  house  with  two  of  my 
men,  when  twelve  Indians  came  up  on 
horseback.  Little  Knife  was  the  head 
man,  the  chief  of  the  band.  They 
came  right  straight  to  the  window,  and 
they  sat  on  horseback;  their  bodies 
and  heads  were  covered  with  big  buf- 
falo robes,  the  hair  inside,  and  they 
were  looking  in  the  window.  We  did 
not  pay  any  attention  to  them.  They 
stood  there  for  a  long  time,  half  an 
hour  at  least,  and  at  last  Little  Knife 
came  in,  opening  the  door  and  leaving 
it  open,  and  stood  there  for  a  long 
time,  and  at  last  he  walked  slowly, 
you  see,  quietly  and  slowly,  paying  no 
attention  to  us,  across  the  room  and 
sat  down  on  the  floor,  and  called  the 
others  one  by  one.  Each  of  the  twelve 
came  in  just  the  same  way.     The  door 


remained  open  all  the  time.  I  did  not 
speak  to  them  or  make  any  movement, 
but  waited  quietly  for  them  to  act. 
They  remained  seated  about  two  hours, 
when  Little  Knife  jumped  up  and  came 
over  to  us,  and  shook  hands  and  re- 
turned to  his  place.  Then  each  of  the 
others  did  the  same,  one  by  one.  One 
of  the  men  was  by  the  name  of  Crow. 
Crow  was  the  speaker  of  the  band. 
At  last  he  jumped  in  the  middle  of  the 
floor,  and  calling  to  the  north  wind 
and  the  south,  and  the  diff"erent  winds, 
commenced  to  talk.  He  said:  '  We 
left  the  American  side  because  we 
could  not  sleep,  and  had  heard  that 
the  Big  Woman  (the  Queen)  was  very 
good  to  her  children,  and  we  come  to 
this  country  to  sleep  quiet.'  After 
that  they  talked  about  the  trade,  and 
they  told  me  if  I  would  give  them 
something  to  hunt  with,  powder,  ball 
and  caps,  and  tobacco,  they  would 
trade  with  me.  I  gave  them  about 
$30  worth  of  stock  and  they  left." 

It  was  not  until  some  time  after  this 
rather  startling  introduction  to  the  ad- 
vance guard  of  Sitting  Bull's  band  that 
Legar6  learned  of  the  Custer  massacre, 
and  that  his  newly-made  friends  had 
come  fresh  from  the  terrible  scene  of 
carnage  in  which  General  Custer's 
command  had  almost  suff"ered  annihil- 
ation. After  the  twelve  savage  horse- 
men had  turned  away  from  the  lonely 
trading  post,  they  rode  back  to  their 
camp  near  the  international  boundary. 
They  had  been  sent  out  to  see  if  there 
were  enemies  in  the  path,  and  their  re- 
port to  the  main  band  was  so  satisfac- 
tory that  on  the  following  day  they  re- 
turned with  seventy  lodges.  The 
whole  band  camped  about  Legare's 
post,  but  a  few  days  after  their  arrival 
"Jean  Louis,"  as  Legar^  is  known  to 
the  Indians,  heard  from  a  messenger 
that  his  wife  was  sick  at  Cypress, 
about  150  miles  away,  and  returned 
with  him  to  see  her.  On  his  way  back 
he  met  Major  Walsh,  commanding 
officer  at  Fort  Walsh,  the  Canadian 
Mounted  Police  post,  and  learned  from 
him  that  during  his  absence  he  had 
held  a  council  with  the  Indians  at  his 
store  to  consult  with  them  about  their 


THE  SURRENDER  OF  SITTING  BULL 


337 


return  to  the  United  States.  When 
asked  by  Major  Walsh  why  they  had 
crossed  the  line,  the  Indians  said : 
"We  do  not  want  fight.  We  stay  at 
one  place.  They  (the  Americans)  al- 
ways came  to  us.  We  do  not  want  to 
see  them  at  all.  They  always  come." 
According  to  "Jean  Louis"  Major 
Walsh  answered:  "After  all,  if  you 
will  keep  the  law  on  this  side,  you 
may  stay  if  you  like,  but  if  you  do 
something  wrong  you  are  to  go  back." 
That  was  on  the  24th  of  December, 
1876.  During  the  winter,  the  buffalo 
being  near,  the  Indians  brought  in 
plenty  of  furs  and  robes,  and  Legar^ 
supplied  them  in  return  with  ammuni- 
tion and  provisions.  So  pleased  were 
the  Teton  Sioux  with  their  new  home 
in  the  country  of  the  Big  Woman  that 
the  camp  was  rapidly  increased  until 
in  the  month  of  June,  1877,  it  con- 
tained 800  lodges,  or  4,000 
souls.  During  this  year 
Major  Walsh  again  visited 
Wood  Mountain,  this  time 
to  station  a  small  force  of 
mounted  police  there,  which 
was  added  to  until  it  be- 
camequitelarge.when  a  reg- 
ular post  was  established. 

From  the  first  the  pres-- 
ence  of  so  large  a  body  ot 
hostiles  in  British  territory 
was  a  source  of  great  un- 
easiness to  the  governmeni> 
of  Canada  and  the  United 
States.  Tremendous  efforts 
were  made  on  both  sides  of 
the  line  to  secure  their  re- 
turn to  the  American  re- 
serves. Agents  were  sent 
out  by  the  United  States  in- 
to Canadian  territory  to  tell 
them  that  should  they  re- 
turn they  would  be  well  re- 
ceived. One  of  these,  John 
Howard,  was  the  first  to 
suggest  to  Legard  that  it 
might  be  worth  his  while  to 
attempt  the  surrender  of 
the  Indians.  This  was  in 
1878.  "Jean  Louis"  dis- 
cussed the  matter  with 
Chief  No  Neck  when  about 


seventy  lodges  were  present.  He  gave 
them  something  to  eat  and  tobacco  to 
smoke,  and  "spoke  them  good,"  but 
their  answer  was  that  they  "would  not 
believe  one  word  of  good  of  the  United 
States."  His  efforts  were  therefore  in- 
effectual. In  1879  large  bands  of  Sit- 
ting Bull's  Sioux  crossed  the  boundary 
into  Montana  and  commenced  killing 
cattle  and  stealing  horses.  General 
Terry  sent  General  Miles  into  the  field 
again  to  hunt  down  the  hostiles.  On 
the  17th  July  Lieutenant  Philo  Clark 
came  up  with  the  Indians  and  a  fight 
occurred  between  Beaver  Creek  and 
Milk  River,  and  Sitting  Bull  withdrew 
his  forces,  first  to  Milk  River  and  then 
into  Canadian  territory  again.  Many 
captives  were  taken,  however,  and  dis- 
i^atisfaction  took  possession  of  the 
Sioux.  This  fight  has  been  described 
as  the  "  beginning  of  the  end"  of  the 


MAJOR    WALSH 
Insi)ector.MouiitediPolice>t  Cypress  Hills  in  1877 


338 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


J.     LOLIS    LEGARE 
The  trader  who  induced  Sitting  Bull  to  surrender 


trouble  with  Sitting  Bull.  Gall  and 
Rain-in-the-face,  rivals  of  the  absolute 
ruler,  did  all  in  their  power  to  destroy 
his  influence  with  his  band.  A  period 
of  terrible  starvation  impelled  the  In- 
dians to  look  favourably  upon  a  sur- 
render that  would  allow  them  to  return 
under  the  wing-  of  the  American  Gov- 
ernment. In  January,  1880,  forty-one 
families  travelled  to  Poplar  River  and 
surrendered,  handing  over  their  guns 
and  ponies.  Between  January  and 
April  the  number  of  those  who  had 
surrendered  grew  to  1,116,  in  all  109 
men,  209  women,  424  boys  and  374 
girls.  In  October  Spotted  Eagle  with 
65  lodges  gave  himself  up  at  Fort 
Keogh.  In  December  Low  Dog  left 
Wood  Mountain  with  his  followers  for 
the  same  purpose.  During  1880  Min- 
nicangon,  Iron  Dog,  Waterspout,  The- 
One-That-Killed-The-Whiteman,  Hairy 


Chin  and  many  other  noted 
chiefs  returned  to  their  re- 
serves on  the  American  side. 
By  the  beginning  of  1881,  of 
the  monster  camp  of  4,000 
Teton  Sioux,  only  five  hun- 
dred remained  with  Sitting 
Bull  in  British  Territory. 

Although  Legar^  had 
done  all  in  his  power  to  se- 
cure the  surrender  of  these 
thousands  of  Indians,  it  was 
with  the  remaining  band,  in- 
cluding Sitting  Bull  and  his 
more  immediate  followers, 
that  he  had  particularly  to 
deal.  Whether  it  was  be- 
cause they  had  been  more 
nearly  concerned  in  the 
Custer  massacre  and  other 
outrages,  or  not,  those  re- 
maining absolutely  refused 
to  go.  The  efforts  of  both 
governments  to  secure  the 
surrender  did  not  abate.  So 
long  as  they  remained  north 
of  the  boundary,  United 
States  troops  had  to  be  kept 
in  motionatacostof  millions 
to  guard  against  their  in- 
cursions. At  the  same  time 
their  presence  caused  the 
greatest  uneasiness  amongst 
the  Indian  tribes  in  the  Canadian  North- 
west. Scouts  were  employed  at  immense 
salaries  to  treat  with  the  remaining  In- 
dians. The  Roman  Catholic  Bishop 
of  Dakota  was  sent  to  make  overtures 
to  them.  Numerous  letters  of  assur- 
ance were  forwarded  to  them  through 
the  Canadian  Mounted  Police.  Lieut.- 
Col.  Macleod,  Commissioner  of  the 
N.W.M.P.;  Lieut.-Col.  Irvine,  As- 
sistant Commissioner;  Major  Walsh, 
Inspector  commanding  at  Wood  Moun- 
tain; Major  Crozier,  Inspector  com- 
manding Fort  Walsh;  Inspector  Mac- 
donnel  and  other  officers  of  the  Cana- 
dian Northwest  Mounted  Police,  as 
well  as  Lieutenant-Governor  Dewdney, 
did  all  in  their  power  to  induce  a  sur- 
render. In  February,  1881,  Major 
Crozier  made  a  last  supreme  effort. 
He  gave  a  big  feast  to  the  Indians, 
and  Sitting  Bull  went  so  far  as  to  say: 


THE  SURRENDER  OF  SITTING  BULL 


539 


"  If  I  could  get  a  good  let- 
ter from  Major  Brotherton 
(United  States  commanding 
officer  at  Fort  Buford),  that 
we  will  be  well  received,  I 
may  go;  I  will  see  about  it." 
Couriers  having  been  de- 
spatched and  most  reassur- 
ing letters  having  been  re- 
ceived, Major  Crozier  felt 
that  he  was  sure  to  gain  his 
point.  Another  big  feast  was 
given,  and  the  American  let- 
ter produced  and  read.  As 
soon  as  it  was  read,  how- 
ever, Sitting  Bull  jumped  to 
his  feet  and  exclaimed:  "  I 
don't  take  a  word  that  is 
said."  With  that  he  turned 
on  his  heel,  and  Major  Croz- 
ier, disappointed  beyond 
measure,  replied:  "  I  do  not 
want  to  see  any  of  you  any 
longer,  I  have  had  so  much 
trouble  with  you."  He  then 
turned  them  away  from  the 
fort,  and  they  started  for 
Legar^'s  post. 

It  was  still  winter,  the 
weather  biting  cold,  and  they 
were  starving.  It  was  then, 
says  Legar^,  that  he  deter- 
minedtosurrenderthem.  To 
Father  St.  Germain,  the  resident  Roman 
Catholic  priest,  he  said:  "  If  the  British 
Government  and  the  Americans  cannot 
do  a  thing  with  Sitting  Bull,  I  will  sur- 
render him.  I  will  do  it  myself.  If 
they  pay  me,  that  is  all  right,  but  any- 
how I  will  have  the  credit  for  it."  Nor 
did  he  lose  any  time  in  setting  to  work 
at  the  task  which  he  had  promised  to 
accomplish. 

"I  first,"  he  says,  "gave  a  feast  to 
all  the  camps.  There  were  about  five 
hundred  people  there  at  the  time. 
After  they  had  a  good  meal  I  spoke  to 
them.  I  told  them  that  it  was  five 
years  since  we  were  together.  I  said: 
•  I  was  the  first  man  to  shake  hands 
with  you  when  you  crossed  the  line, 
and  I  have  stayed  with  you  all  the 
time  since.  I  never  said  anything 
much  to  you  before,  but  this  time  I 
have  to  talk  a  little  to  you.      I  see  this 


LIEUT.-COL.    A.   G.    IRVINE 

Asristant  Commissioner  N.W.M.  Police  at  time  Sitting  Bull 
was  in  Canada 


spring  that  there  is  nothing  good  for 
you  anywhere;  all  the  half-breeds  are 
going  away — don't  want  to  see  you — 
and  the  mounted  police  don't  want  to 
see  you  any  more  towards  or  close  to 
the  fort.  For  my  part,  I  will  try  once 
to  help  you.  If  you  want  to  listen  to 
me,  I  see  just  now  only  one  thing  is 
good  for  you.  The  American  Govern- 
ment is  very  well  disposed  to  receive 
you  this  spring.  If  you  like  your 
children,  as  you  are  very  poor,  you 
will  take  my  words.  You  will  sur- 
render very  soon.'  Well,  they  said 
nothing.  In  the  first  place,  some  of 
the  chiefs  commenced  to  talk,  saying 
that  they  believed  me  very  well,  but 
they  would  not  believe  the  American 
authorities.  In  surrendering  them- 
selves the  Americans  were  waiting 
only  to  have  them  all  together  to  kill 
them.      I  told  them,  '  You  know  very 


340 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


MAJOR    K.    N.    tROZlER 

Inspector  Commanding  Fort  Walsh  during  Sitting  Bull's  residence 
in  Canada 


well  I  never  said  much  to  you  except 
when  it  was  necessary.'  'How!' 
they  said.  '  If  you  do  not  believe  me — 
I  will  do  more  than  that — come  with 
me  as  many  as  you  want,  chief  or 
brave,  thirty  or  forty.  We  will  go 
and  see  Major  Brotherton.  I  will  talk 
for  you.  I  will  furnish  you  with  pro- 
visions, horses,  guns,  ammunition, 
and  treat  you  well  going  to  Fort 
Buford;  I  will  talk  for  you.  If  you 
have  no  good  answer  from  Major  Bro- 
therton I  will  bring  you  back,  every 
one  of  you.'  *  How!'  they  say,  and 
they  ask  me,  '  If  he  keeps  us  there 
what  will  you  do?'  '  If  he  keep  you 
I  will  stay  with  you.'  'How!' 
'  Washtay ! '  they  say.  But  Sitting 
Bull  was  not  glad  of  it  at  all.  He 
knew,  in  the  first  place,  that  I  had 
much  influence  in  the  camp,  and  that  I 
would  diminish  his   party  a  good  deal. 


Well,  this  was  on  the  20th 
of  April,  and  I  told  them  in 
five  days  from  that  very 
date  to  start  for  Buford.  '  If 
anyone  will  go  with  me,  get 
ready,'  I  said.  On  the  26th 
of  April  I  was  ready  with 
twelve  carts,  horses  and 
guns  and  everything  ready. 
I  went  to  the  camp  with  my 
baggage.  About  thirty  of 
the  Sioux  got  ready  to  start 
with  me,  and  we  started  and 
travelled  about  twelve  miles 
that  day." 

This  first  trip  to  Buford 
was  an  eventful  one.  The 
day  after  the  departure  Sit- 
ting Bull  held  a  council  and 
induced  some  of  his  follow- 
ers to  go  to  Qu'Appelle,  a 
military  post  some  180  miles 
north  of  the  Wood  Moun- 
tain country.  His  object 
was  to  consult  with  the  Big 
Ogema  (the  big  chief),  Lieu- 
tenant-Governor Dewdney, 
who  wished  to  surrender 
him  and  his  party  by  way  of 
Pembina.  Before  starting 
out  on  this  journey  he 
very  considerately  ordered 
all  the  poor  and  the  old 
of  his  band  to  stick  close  to  Legare's 
store,  the  only  available  fountain  of 
supplies,  during  his  absence.  He  also 
sent  five  men  in  pursuit  of  Legar^  and 
his  cavalcade,  who  reached  his  camp 
early  in  the  morning.  Among  the 
number  was  Sitting  Bull's  nephew, 
who  seized  hold  of  Legard  and  shook 
him  violently,  saying  at  the  same  time: 
"We  know  very  well  now  what  you 
are  going  to  do  with  that  party  you 
are  taking  to  Buford.  You  want  to 
take  all  the  big  ones  with  you,  and  it 
is  because  you  want  to  sell  them  by 
the  pound."  This  was  an  unexpected 
disaster,  which  resulted  in  the  return 
of  all  but  sixteen.  These  latter  re- 
mained with  the  procession  until  Buf- 
ord was  reached,  after  eight  days* 
journey  in  Red  River  carts.  At  Buf- 
ord the  guns  and  ponies  were  taken 
away  from  the  Indians  and  they  were 


THE  SURRENDER  OF  SITTING  BULL 


?4' 


surrendered    to    Major 
Brotherton. 

On  his  return  to  Willow- 
Bunch,  Legar6  found  that 
the  Indians  so  kindly  dis- 
posed about  his  trading  post 
were  slowly  but  surely  de- 
vouring-all  the  supplies  that 
his  store  contained.  In 
order  to  save  as  much  of  his 
dried  buffalo  meat,  pemmi- 
can,  flour,  bacon,  sugar,  tea 
and  tobacco  as  he  could,  he 
tried  to  persuade  as  many  as 
possible  of  them  to  go  with 
him  on  a  second  trip  and 
surrender  at  Buford.  Many 
would  not  move,  pending 
Sitting  Bull's  return  from 
Qu'Appelle,  but  32  were 
prevailed  upon  to  go.  This 
second  cavalcade  of  carts 
left  Willow  Bunch  on  the 
23rd  of  May,  and  reached 
Buford  on  the  first  day  of 
the  month.  The  Indians 
were  duly  surrendered  to 
Major  Brotherton  and  taken 
in  the  carts  to  the  river 
steamer  where,  with  a  num- 
ber of  others,  they  were 
sent  down  to  Standing 
Rock  agency.  Legar^, 
with  three  Sioux  witnesses  who  were 
to  return  to  Willow  Bunch  to  as- 
sure the  rest  of  the  band  of  the  na- 
ture of  the  reception  by  the  United 
States  authorities,  made  his  way  back 
to  Willow  Bunch  about  the  8th  of 
June.  Sitting  Bull  was  still  absent  at 
Qu'Appelle,  and  did  not  return  till  July 
2nd.  That  day  Sitting  Bull  and  the 
whole  remaining  band  visited  Legare's 
house,  and  Sitting  Bull  assured  him 
that  he  would  do  anything  he  wanted 
if  he  would  give  a  feast  to  the  whole 
crowd  and  twelve  sacks  of  flour  to 
himself.  The  feast  was  given,  and 
when  at  that  stage  in  cultivated  so- 
ciety the  finger  bowls  are  brought  on. 
Sitting  Bull  said  to  Legard:  "These 
five  years  I  know  you;  you  never  said 
anything  to  me  in  your  life,  but  I  heard 
many  times  what  you  were  saying  to 
the  others,   and  your  word  has  been 


SHOTTED    EAciLh 

One  of  the  Chiefs  «-iUi  Sitting  Bull 

put  in  cash.  I  heard  in  Qu'Appelle 
that  you  were  carrying  my  camp  to 
Buford.  I  started  from  Qu'Appelle 
with  the  same  intention,  to  surrender 
myself  if  you  give  me  time  for  it." 
Governor  Dewdney,  he  said,  offered  to 
pay  all  expenses  for  his  band  if  he 
would  go  and  surrender  to  the  Am- 
erican authorities.  He  answered; 
"No;  if  I  have  the  intention  to  sur- 
render, with  nobody  else  but  Jean 
Louis  will  I  go."  And  he  continued: 
"  If  you  wait  until  we  are  in  a  little 
better  order  and  fatter,  we  will  go  to 
Buford  with  you." 

Legare's  position  was  difficult.  "I 
was  very  anxious,"  he  says,  "to  re- 
move them  as  soon  as  possible.  My 
men  were  so  tired  of  them  they  about 
left  me  alone.  I  did  not  ask  Sitting 
Bull  to  go  with  me  because  if  I  asked  he 
never  would  go  at  all,  and  I  told  him: 


342 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


RAIN-IN-THE-FACE 
One  of  Sitting  Bull's  confreres 

'If  any  of  you  want  to  go  with  me  it  is  of 
your  own  free  will.  I  will  start  the  day 
after  to-morrow.'  'No,'  Sitting  Bull 
said, '  we  cannot  go  as  soon  as  that.  If 
you  wait  until  ten  days  we  may  be  ready. ' 
'  No,  I  will  refuse  to  wait  so  long,'  1 
replied.  But  I  had  to  do  something 
to  please  him,  not  quite  agree  with 
him,  but  be  willing  to  agree.  I  told 
him  seven  days,  and  he  done  the  best  he 
could  to  get  me  to  wait  longer.  He 
said  he  was  sick,  and  went  away  on  a 
visit,  etc.,  but  I  did  not  pay  any  atten- 
tion to  him,  I  waited  until  the  tenth 
of  July,  and  I  told  the  Indians  that  I 
wanted  those  who  intended  to  go  with 
me  to  move  out  of  the  camp  and  pitch 
their  tents  together  at  another  point. 
I  wanted  to  see  if  they  were  willing  to 
start — no  use  to  go  to  expenses  for 
nothing.  They  removed  about  forty 
lodges,   and   Sitting   Bull  came  to  me 


and  said:  'We  want  ten 
sacks  of  flour  to  make  bread 
before  we  start  from  here.' 
But  I  thought  they  would 
keep  that  much  and  not  go 
at  all,  but  I  was  in  that  posi- 
tion I  could  refuse  nothing; 
they  were  masters  of  me.  I 
gave  nine  sacks  of  flour,  and 
when  they  sent  a  man  to 
the  camp  with  that  flour, 
Sitting  Bull  was  not  pleased 
with  it,  and  he  said  to  the 
others:  '  Now,  Jean  Louis 
is  cheating  us,  because  I 
asked  him  ten  and  he  gives 
us  only  nine.'  I  got  every- 
thing ready  to  start  in  the 
morning,  37  carts  and  7 
men  with  me  to  take  care  of 
the  carts  and  ponies  on  the 
road." 

Little  incidents  like  this 
give  some  insight  into  In- 
dian character  and  an  idea 
of  the  difliculties  with  which 
Legar^  had  to  contend.  The 
idea  that  "Jean  Louis"  had 
been  cheating  threw  the 
whole  camp  into  a  condition 
of  suUenness,  from  which  on- 
ly the  piling  of  all  the  provis- 
ions in  the  warehouse  on  the 
carts,  the  addition  of  twenty  ponies  to 
the  band  for  the  sake  of  appearance, 
and  gifts  of  many  cartridges  to  fire  in 
the  air  as  the  procession  moved  on, 
recovered  it.  After  these  preliminary 
arrangements  had  been  completed. 
Sitting  Bull  demanded  two  sacks  of 
flour,  which  were  given  him,  and 
helped  himself  to  a  fifteen  dollar  re- 
volver and  a  pair  of  field  glasses  with 
which  he  decorated  his  person.  Le- 
gar^  thought  the  camp  would  now 
move,  but  the  tepees  continued  in  the 
same  place.  It  was  useless  to  await 
the  pleasure  of  the  Indians  any  longer, 
and  Jean  Louis  started  without  them, 
24  carts  following  and  13  carts  re- 
maining behind  for  Sitting  Bull,  Four 
Horns,  Red  Thunder  and  White  Dog. 
In  the  accommodating  spirit  which  had 
been  shown  all  along,  these  chiefs,  in- 
stead of  going  south-east  with  Legar^, 


THE  SURRENDER  OF  SITTING  BULL 


343 


started  in  a  northerly  direction.  This 
indisposition  on  the  part  of  Sitting 
Bull  to  surrender  is  explained  by  the 
fact  that  he  had  heard  that  the  Ameri- 
cans had  offered  a  large  reward  for  his 
head,  and  feared  that  Mr.  Legar6's 
kind  attentions  were  in  some  way  con- 
nected with  the  reward.  All  the  half- 
breeds  in  the  main  cavalcade  were  sent 
after  them  to  secure  the  return  of  the 
carts  and  supplies.  The  chief  asked 
time  to  "smoke"  before  delivering  up 
the  property,  and  the  result  of  their 
deliberations  was  that  they  returned 
to  the  main  column  next  day,  timing 
their  arrival  so  that  it  coincided  nicely 
with  the  dinner  hour.  At  night  time 
some  of  the  families  who  had  been  left 
behind  at  Wiilow  Bunch  caught  up 
with  the  camp,  and  at  a  late  hour  Mr. 
Legar^  was  rather  surprised  to  hear  on 
the  midnightair  thevoiceof  a  brave  call- 
ing upon  his  friends  generally  to  walk 
up  and  receive  presents  from  the  stock 
of  supplies.  He  at  once  went  out  to 
reconnoitre.  *'  I  saw  them,"  he  says, 
"taking  eight  bags  of  flour  from  my 
carts,  and  I  could  not  stop  them,  but 
when  I  saw  one  more  come  I  tried  to 
stop  him.  One  Indian  came  close  to 
me,  took  a  sack  of  flour  and  wanted 
to  return  to  Wood  Mountain  with  it.  I 
ordered  him  to  leave  the  sack  of  flour 
there  as  it  belonged  to  me.  As  I  went 
close  to  the  sacks  of  flour,  my  feet 
touching  them,  the  Indian,  who  was 
mad  at  my  words,  took  his  gun  and 
shot  twice  into  the  bag  of  flour.  I  re- 
fused to  let  him  take  any.  He  went  a 
little  further  into  the  camp,  took  flour 
from  the  other  carts  and  went  back. 
The  Indians  did  not  say  a  word,  all 
was  quiet;  they  were  not  pleased  at 
what  I  was  doing." 

Such  strained  relations  were  caused 
by  this  incident  that  Mr.  Legard  felt  it 
necessary  to  explain  the  reason  for  his 
— to  ordinary  people — not  extraordin- 
ary action.  He  pointed  out  that  he 
was  not  open  to  reproach  because  he 
had  interfered  to  avoid  running  out  of 
provisions  before  reaching  Buford. 
After  this  apology  had  been  carefully 
considered  for  half  an  hour,  a  chief 
smoothed  the  whole  difficulty  over  in  a 


way  that  is  charming  for  its  novelty 
and  its  clear  comprehensions  of  the 
rights  and  obligations  of  meutn  and 
tuuni.  He  said:  "If  you  are  glad,  we 
are  very  glad.  You  have  strong  heart. 
You  gave  us  plenty  provisions  on  the 
road.  The  Indian  is  the  same.  He 
has  plenty,  he  gives  some  to  his  friends. " 

After  this  the  journey  to  Buford  con- 
tinued to  be  uneventful  until  within 
about  fifty  miles  of  the  destination, 
when  waggons  with  supplies  for  which 
Legard  had  sent  on  ahead  came  in 
view.  When  Sitting  Bull  saw  them 
coming  he  struck  his  breast  and  grunt- 
ed. Legar^  asked  him  what  was  the 
matter.  He  said  "Americans  are 
coming."  He  was  afraid.  He  was  on 
horseback,  and  turned  back ;  but  as 
soon  as  he  saw  the  Indians  and  half- 
breeds  ahead  of  the  waggons  he  became 
quiet. 

The  final  surrender  to  the  United 
States  authorities  took  place  on  July 
2 1st  in  the  presence  of  Inspector  Mc- 
Donnel  of  the  Canadian  Northwest 
Mounted  Police,  and  was  the  occasion 
of  a  striking  and  pathetic  incident. 
With  Sitting  Bull  was  his  little  boy,  a 
lad  of  eight  years.  To  him  he  handed 
his  gun,  at  the  same  time  saying:  "My 
boy,  if  you  live  you  can  never  be  a  man 
in  this  world  because  you  never  can 
have  a  gun  or  pony."  The  boy  hand- 
ed the  gun  to  Major  Brotherton,  thus 
completing  the  surrender  of  two  gen- 
erations, the  new  as  well  as  the  old. 
The  old  Chief,  turning  to  that  officer, 
said:  "The  land  I  have  under  my  feet 
is  mine  again,  I  never  sold  it,  never 
gave  it  to  anybody.  If  I  left  Black 
Hills  five  years  ago  it  was  because  I 
would  raise  my  family  quietly.  It  is 
the  law  of  the  Big  Woman  (the  Queen) 
to  have  everything  quiet  in  that  place, 
but  I  thought  all  the  time  to  come  back 
to  this  country,  and  now  as  Legar6 
was  bringing  my  friends  here  (I  heard 
one  of  my  girls  was  with  him),  I  deter- 
mined to  start  from  Qu'Appelle  and 
come  with  him  to  Fort  Buford,  and 
now  I  want  to  make  a  bargain  with  the 
United  States  Government,  a  solid  one. 
I  want  to  have  witnesses  on  both  sides, 
some  Englishmen,  some  Americans." 


344 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


The  bargain  was  made  and  witnessed,  has  at  last  seen  fit  to  provide.     In  connection 

the  surrender  was  complete,  and  on  the  ^'!^'\  *''^  ^"'^  evidence  was  taken  on  com- 

j        ..-,          T        -M^^ji        t^  mission  at  Keeina,  the  capital  of  the  North- 

same  day  "Jean  Louis     started  back  to  West  Territories   of  Canada,  in    the   fall   of 

Willow  Bunch.  1888,  where  were  gathered  together,  besides 

Legar^,  several  prominent  officers  of  the 
Note — After  many  unsuccessful  efforts  by  North-West  Mounted  Police  and  many  pic- 
personal  application  to  procure  payment  of  turesque  figures,  including  the  venerable 
his  claim  for  the  surrender  of  Sitting  Bull  to  F'ather  St.  Germain.  The  writer  acted  as 
the  United  Slates  authorities,  Legar^,  on  Counsel  for  the  Department  of  Justice  of  the 
July  J5th,  1887,  entered  suit  in  the  United  United  States  on  the  taking  of  the  evidence 
States  Court  of  Claims  for  $13,412  for  his  under  the  commission,  and  is  able  to  tell 
services  and  expenses,  with  the  result  that  Legare's  story  as  it  was  taken  down  at  the 
judgment  was  given  in  his  favour  many  years  time,  and  supplemented  in  conversation  after- 
ago  for  some  such  amount  as  the  U.S.  Senate  wards. 


^ 


ST.    VALENTINES    DAY 

BY    MARTHA    MARTIN 

\1 /"HILE  Cupid,  his  arrows  and  bow  flung  aside, 

Was  sleeping  one  morn  'neath  a  tree, 
It  happened  that  Malice  was  passing  close  by, 
And  seeing  the  weapons,  he  came  up  quite  sly, 
And  seizing  them  ran  off"  in  glee. 

In  horror  and  grief  Cupid  wakened  to  find 

His  love-giving  arrows  all  gone; 
Bewailing  and  weeping  he  hunted  each  place, 
On  swift-speeding  wings  he  continued  his  chase 
Each  day  from  the  earliest  dawn. 

But  vain  were  his  searches,  alas!    And  he  soon 

Began  to  grow  pallid  and  pine, — 
When  one  frosty  morning  in  February,  lo, 
An  old  man  approached  with  a  sheath  and  a  bow. 
Who  proved  to  be  St.  Valentine! 

"  Here,  child,  are  thy  weapons,  I  rescued  at  last 

From  Malice  with  might  and  with  main, — 
The  hearts  of  the  people  are  passive  and  cold, 
Go  pierce  with  thine  arrows  the  young  and  the  old, 
That  love's  flame  may  kindle  again." 

Then  Cupid  grew  happy  and  active  once  more. 

His  shafts  flew  in  numbers  away; 
Love  greetings  and  tokens  and  pledges  went  round. 
By  ties  deep  and  tender  all  hearts  became  bound, 
And  this  was  St.  Valentine's  day. 


THE  BUILDERS 


W^lT^iW 


\^^;^*f--^x;;.fif^.-iS,      !   b/EricBohn^i 


Author  of  **Haw  Haritnan   Won" 


CHAPTER   V 

*•  'Eave-oh-haw — 'eave-oh-hoh! 
'Eave-oh-haw,  yoh-hee! 
Sally  come  out  to  the  wishing'  gr^te. 
To  the  wishing  gate  with  me. 

" 'Elave-oh-hie,  'eave-oh-haw! 
'Eave-ohhie,  yoh-hoh! 
For  afler  another  day  of  fun. 
Oh,  Sally,  I've  got  to  %o." 

SO  sang  the  jolly  tars,  as  with 
mighty  swing  and  steady  rhythm 
they  pulled  the  halyards  and  set  their 
sails. 

"Did  yo*  see  the  leddy,  Alf?" 

"Bet  yo'  six-punce,  I  did." 

"Aren't  she  a  daisy?" 

"Ef  she  arn't,  I'd  like  to  know 
where  you  find  on*  " 

"It's  just  jolly  to  have  the  real 
thing  aboard — none  of  your  tuppenny 
'a'penny  pieces,  but  a  geno-wine  leddy 
thro'  and  thro.'  " 

"Did  you  see  how  she  was  watchin' 
and  smilin'  while  we  was  fixing  the 
tackle  by  the  big  mast  ?" 

"Yes,  we  all  seed  it.  She's  got 
the  hearts  of  the  chaps  already,  even  if 
she  be  a  married  'oman." 

"  'Eave-oh-haw,   eave-oh-hoh! 
"Eave-oh-haw,  yoh-hie! 
Sally's  gone  back  to  the  washin'  tub, 
And  on  ocean  brine  am  I." 

"Do  you  know,  Ned,  I've  been  on 
the   North    King    ever    sin'    she    was 


launched  at  Glasgow,  seventeen  year 
ago,  and  this  is  the  fust  time  a  leddy 
has  ever  sailed  aboard  of  her." 

"If  they're  all  like  this  'un,  I  hope 
it  won't  be  the  last  time,  uther." 

"  But,  'eave-oh-haw,  and,  eave-oh-hoh! 
Yes,  'eave-oh-haw,  yoh-hoo! 
For  whenever  her  lad  comes  home  again 
His  Sally  will  all'us  be  true." 

And  so  the  sailors  echoed  her  praises 
while  they  sang  their  songs  and 
adjusted  the  rigging  of  the  ship,  even 
before  they  were  three  days  out  at  sea. 

Yes,  Helen  was  on  the  North  King, 
and  her  beauty  and  strong  gentleness 
had  captured  the  hearts  of  everyone, 
soldiers  as  well  as  marines.  Already 
she  was  the  acknowledged  queen — the 
queen  of  a  mighty  ship,  for  the  North 
King  had  a  splendid  record.  Never 
had  she  been  defeated  in  battle,  and 
her  history  dated  back  to  the  time  when 
she  was  one  of  the  vanguard  in  Nel- 
son's memorable  victory  at  the  Nile. 

Now  she  had  a  double  mission;  first, 
to  carry  the  two  companies  of  the 
looth  regiment  to  Halifax,  together 
with  their  stores  for  the  overland  jour- 
ney; and  then  to  turn  southwards 
along  the  coast  line,  and  join  the  Brit- 
ish squadron  in  their  attack  upon 
United  States  cities. 

Like  many  of  the  British  war  vessels 
of  that  date,   however,  she  was  built 


346 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


in  antiquated  style.  While  steady  in 
movement  and  easily  manned,  she  was 
a  slow  sailor — very  different  from  the 
clipper-built,  light  running  American 
warships,  which  had  distressingly  har- 
assed the  British  during  several  of 
their  more  recent  engagements.  This 
fact  alone  made  a  sea-fight  probable 
before  Halifax  could  be  reached,  for 
the  American  liners  were  ever  on  the 
lookout  for  incoming  vessels. 

Hence,  the  English  motto,  *'  Keep 
your  musket  polished  and  your  powder 
dry,"  seemed  to  actuate  every  man  on 
board;  and  before  they  reached  mid- 
ocean  an  extra  lookout  was  stationed 
on  the  top-gallant-mast  to  kefep  per- 
petual vigil. 

Helen  had  never  been  on  a  man-of- 
war  before;  but  she  was  a  good  sailor, 
and  enjoyed  being  on  deck,  clothed  in 
garments  that  resisted  the  penetration 
of  the  December  winds.  Her  comfort, 
too,  had  been  well  provided  for;  and 
Captain  Osborne,  the  ship- master,  out 
of  courtesy  to  the  bride,  even  surrend-- 
ered,  for  the  time  being,  his  own  cabin 
to  the  benedict  and  his  wife. 

Harold,  on  the  plea  of  discipline, 
protested,  but  the  Captain  insisted; 
and,  not  by  any  means  ungratefully, 
they  accepted  the  situation.  The 
presence  of  a  lady  on  his  ship  softened 
the  heart  of  the  old  bachelor  and,  hav- 
ing no  rule  to  guide  him,  he  concluded 
to  be  a  law  unto  himself. 

While  the  rough  weather  did  not  affect 
Helen,  it  did  very  materially  affect  the 
women  of  the  steerage.  The  compart- 
ment assigned  to  them  and  their  hus- 
bands was  beneath  the  forecastle  and, 
owing  to  its  forward  position,  the  rock- 
ing during  a  rough  sea  was  extreme. 

On  the  morning  of  the  third  day  of 
the  most  prolonged  storm  of  the  voy- 
age, the  tempest  was  at  its  highest. 
The  ship  with  frightful  lurches  pitched 
fore  and  aft.  It  was  simply  a  play- 
thing tossed  at  the  caprice  of  the  un- 
tamed sea.  After  a  time  it  became 
necessary  to  close  down  the  hatchways. 
Rain  was  over,  but  the  wind  whistled 
wildly  through  the  rigging,  and 
stretched  to  their  utmost  tension  the 
few  sails  that  were  set. 


Harold  had  mote  duties  to  perform 
that  morning  than  usual,  and  was  late 
in  returning  to  his  cabin.  Three  hours 
earlier  he  had  parted  with  his  wife,  and 
the  storm  not  having  reached  its  high- 
est point,  she  was  preparing  at  the 
time  to  go  on  deck.  Now,  to  his  sur- 
prise, she  was  not  to  be  found.  First 
he  scanned  the  upper  and  lower  decks, 
next  the  large  saloon,  and  finally  their 
own  state-room,  but  all  without  avail. 

He  was  seriously  alarmed.  It  was 
the  first  time  during  the  ten  days  of 
their  voyage  that  he  had  missed  her. 
Where  could  she  be?  With  the  tre- 
mendous tip  of  the  vessel  and  the 
swash  of  the  sea,  could  she  have  been 
swept  overboard?  Was  it  possible 
that  the  angry  waves  had  stolen  her 
from  him?  and  unconsciously  he  wrung 
his  hands  in  a  sharp  twinge  of  agony. 

Rushing  up  the  gangway  again  to 
the  upper  deck,  he  met  Captain  Os- 
borne and  the  Colonel  coming  down. 

"What  is  the  matter,  Harold?" 
cried  Sir  George.  "The  storm  is  not 
scaring  you,  surely?" 

"No,  sir,"  he  stammered,  "but  I 
cannot  find  my  wife." 

"  Oh,  she's  safe  somewhere,"  was 
the  reassuring  answer.  "  The  A'or/A 
King  is  not  big  enough  to  lose  a  wo- 
man upon.      Is  she.  Captain?" 

"  You  might  lose  her  off  in  a  storm 
like  this,"  was  the  answer.  The  Cap- 
tain felt  like  chaffing  the  young  bene- 
dict. "  Fact  is,  I've  known  more  than 
one  woman  to  drop  overboard.  And 
men  by  the  dozen." 

"  Stuff,"  exclaimed  Sir  George,  who 
saw  that  Harold  was  taking  it  seri- 
ously. 

"Fact,"  returned  the  officer.  "We 
just  lightered  ship  after  each  battle  was 
over."  But  Harold  was  off  toward 
the  soldiers'  quarters.  A  new  idea 
had  seized  him;  perhaps  she  had  gone 
to  visit  the  other  women.  Only  the 
evening  before  she  had  remarked  that 
they  had  not  been  on  deck  since  the 
storm  began.  And  he  knew  that  some 
of  them  were  ill. 

"  Is  Mrs.  Manning  down  there?"  he 
asked  of  a  seaman  as  he  descended 
the  main  stairway  to  their  cabin. 


THE  BUILDERS 


347 


•*Yes,  sir,  ahh  think  so,"  was  the 
answer  of  the  man  as  he  touched  his 
cap.  "  Corporal  Jenkins'  wife  is 
pretty  low,  and  one  of  the  wimmin 
fetched  her.  Theer  she  is  at  end  o't' 
cabin  under  'tfo'  castle." 

Harold  hurried  on.  Owing  to  the 
storm  the  hatchways  had  been  fast- 
ened down  for  days.  The  port  holes 
were  closed  and  the  air  of  the  den.sely- 
peopied  compartment  was  impure. 
Still,  a  couple  of  men  at  the  far  end 
were  again  singing : 

" 'Eave-oh-haw,  'eave-oh-hoh,  'eave-oh-haw, 

yo-hee! 
Sally  come  out  to  the  wishing  gate, 
To  the  wishing  gate  with  me." 

For  a  moment  he  felt  savage  that 
his  wife  should  be  in  a  place  like  this, 
but  then  as  a  counterfoil  there  was  the 
shuddering  thought,  she  might  have 
been  overboard.  Several  men  in  the 
long,  dark  aisle  stepped  aside  to  let 
him  pass.  By-and-bye  he  reached  the 
wretched  little  cabin  which  the  woman 
occupied.  Helen  was  there,  holding 
to  one  of  the  uprights  for  support,  and 
bending  over  the  woman  as  she  applied 
a  soothing  lotion  to  her  head  with  the 
other  hand. 

Involuntarily  she  started  when  she 
saw  her  husband  approach. 

"Sweetheart,  this  is  no  place  for 
you,"  he  muttered  as  he  gently  took 
her  arm. 

"  I  had  to  come,"  she  answered, 
motioning  toward  the  bed.  "I  did  not 
know  she  was  so  ill  until  Mrs.  Bond 
camefor  me  an  hour  ago.  She  has  been 
sick  ever  since  we  came  on  board." 

From  the  woman's  face  she  was 
evidently  very  ill.  She  seemed  almost 
dying,  and  the  foul  air  only  helped  to 
aggravate  her  condition. 

Harold  drew  Helen  to '  one  side. 
"  This  fetid  place  will  kill  you.  You 
must  come  away  at  once,"  he  said. 

"Never  fear,"  she  replied,  trying 
to  smile.  "  I  am  much  needed  and  can 
stand  anything.  Both  the  other  wo- 
men are  tired;  and  unless  the  poor 
creature  is  helped  some  way,  she  is 
sure  to  die." 

"  From  her  looks,"  said  Harold, 
"  there  is  no  hope  now.     You  had  bet- 


ter suggest  to  Mrs.  Bond  what  to  do, 
and  then  come  away  with  me.  I  will 
speak  to  the  Colonel  of  her  condition 
at  once." 

"  It  is  the  abominable  air  that  is 
killing  her,"  said  Helen. 

"It  is  fetid,  sure  enough,  but  the 
storm  is  abating  and  the  hatches  will 
soon  be  opened  again,"  was  his  answer. 

From  the  centre  of  the  low  ceiling  a 
little  lamp  was  swinging  and,  although 
mid-day,  the  double  light  merely  made 
the  darkness  visible.  On  the  floor 
were  a  couple  of  wooden  stools;  and 
upon  a  straw  pallet  on  a  lower  berth 
the  woman  lay.  Covered  with  a  grey 
blanket  she  tossed  from  side  to  side 
with  every  movement  of  the  ship; 
while  her  husband  sat  by  her  and  wiped 
away  the  saliva  that  was  constantly 
drooling  from  her  mouth. 

Helen  was  reluctant  to  leave,  but 
after  speaking  to  Mrs.  Bond  she 
yielded,  and  Harold  led  the  way  to  the 
upper  air.  The  sky  was  already  clear- 
ing and  the  waves  had  ceased  to  wash 
the  deck. 

"  What  a  pity  we  have  no  doctor  on 
board,"  said  Helen,  grasping  his  arm 
as  they  steered  for  their  own  gangway. 
"  It  does  not  give  the  poor  woman  a 
chance." 

"  Sir  George  does  not  like  it  either," 
replied  Harold.  "The  fact  is,  the 
marine  surgeon  took  ill  and  had  to  be 
left  behind  at  the  last  moment,  so  the 
order  came  to  have  his  place  supplied 
when  we  reach  Halifax.  Still,  the 
Captain  has  a  supply  of  medicines, 
and  is  skilful  as  well." 

"  I  know,"  returned  Helen.  "The 
women  say  he  has  given  her  calomel 
every  day  since  we  sailed,  and  yet  she 
gets  worse." 

"  Perhaps  his  doses  are  not  large 
enough,"  said  Harold.  "I  know  the 
doctors  call  it  one  of  their  sheet- 
anchors.  I  shall  speak  to  the  Colonel 
about  that,  too." 

"  And  shall  we  have  to  %o  all  the 
way  to  Penetang  without  a  doctor?" 
Helen  asked  with  a  littl*  tremor  in  her 
voice. 

"  Oh  no,  dearie,  that  will  be  arranged 
for  when  we  reach  port." 


348 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


"Hello,  my  lady!  So  you  were 
playing  truant!  trying  hide-go-seek  in 
the  nether  regions,  I  hear,"  cried  the 
Colonel  with  a  laugh,  as  they  entered 
the  saloon. 

"The  women  sent  for  me,  Sir 
George,"  she  answered  gravely.  *'  I 
am  afraid  that  poor  woman  Jenkins  is 
going  to  die." 

"  Indeed,  so  bad  as  that!"  he  ex- 
claimed in  surprise.  "  I  heard  her 
case  was  only  one  of  ordinary  sea- 
sickness. Something  must  be  done 
for  her.  She  is  really  the  best  woman 
that  we  have  on  board.  Oh,  here's  the 
Captain!  We'll  see  what  he  has  to 
say."  And  turning  to  him.  "  This  is 
distressing  news  about  Corporal  Jen- 
kins' wife,"  Sir  George  continued. 
"They  say  she  is  terribly  ill.  Did  you 
know  it.  Captain?" 

"  I  am  sorry  to  say  it  is  true,"  was 
the  answer.  "She  took  ill  right  after 
we  left  the  Channel,  and  should  have 
been  bled  then;  but  there  was  no  one 
on  board  to  do  it,  so  I  applied  a  dozen- 
leeches  and  gave  her  physic.  Spite  of 
all  we  could  do  she  got  worse  when 
the  last  storm  came,  so  I  increased 
the  calomel;  but  I  fear  it  will  be  of  no 
use." 

"Are you  sure  you  gave  her  enough," 
asked  the  Colonel,  echoing  Harold's 
question. 

"  I  think  so.  It  would  hardly  be 
safe  to  give  her  more.  She  is  salivated 
so  badly  now  that  she  can  scarcely 
swallow  anything.  The  only  thing 
left  to  do  is  to  give  her  opium." 

"Too  bad,"  replied  Sir  George, 
sadly.  "  After  her  large  camp  experi- 
ence she  was  a  capital  woman  to  have 
with  us.  You  see,  we  couldn't  bring 
her  children  on  account  of  the  over- 
land journey,  and  now  I  fear  we  have 
made  a  mistake  all  round.  Zounds!  I 
wish  I  hadn't  brought  her." 

"  It  is  hard  to  tell  what  is  really  the 
matter,"  said  the  Captain. 

"My  own  belief  is  that  it  is  low 
fever  contracted  in  Spain  three  months 
ago,"  said  the  engineer.  "She  was 
not  feeling  well  when  we  sailed.  You 
know,  Colonel,  she  was  with  the  Cor- 
poral throughout  the  continental  war. 


and  he  was  transferred  to  us  as  soon 
as  he  returned." 

"  It  is  unfortunate  that  the  sickness 
was  not  discovered  before  we  sailed," 
said  Sir  George,  seriously.  "  Is  there 
anything  at  all   you  can    recommend, 

Payne?     It  is  a  d d  shame  that  we 

have  no  doctor  on  board." 

"  We  might  try  wine  and  bark  and 
stop  the  calomel,"  was  the  reply. 

"  I  am  afraid  her  mouth  is  too  sore 
to  swallow,"  was  Osborne's  com- 
ment. 

"  Make  her  try,"  returned  the  en- 
gineer, "  and  give  her  opium  after- 
wards to  soothe  her  gums." 

And  so  saying  they  went  down  to 
lunch. 

"  I  must  see  her  again  to-night," 
whispered  Helen  to  Harold,  as  they 
seated  themselves  at  their  own  little 
table  in  the  saloon.      "  I  really  must." 

"  But  Helen,  the  danger!" 

"No  danger  at  all,  dearie!  I  may 
not  ask  to  do  it  again."  And  there 
was  an  appealing  tone  in  her  voice 
that  Harold  could  not  resist.  J^  . 

"Well,  if  you  must,  I  will  go  too," 
was  his  answer — and  silently  they  fin- 
ished their  meal. 


3li 


CHAPTER  VI 

"CHE'S  kinder  sleepin' marm,"  said 

*^  Mrs.  Bond  in  a  whisper;  "but 
she  was  ravin'  after  you  left  till  she 
got  the  new  medicine.  That  quieted 
'er  like." 

Helen  was  at  the  door  with  Harold 
by  her  side.  As  he  had  promised,  the 
hatchways  were  open  and  the  air 
purer. 

"I  have  brought  some  jelly,"  said 
Helen  in  a' low  voice. 

"This  is  the  first  sleep  she's  had 
for  a  long  spell,"  returned  the  corporal, 
gazing  intently  on  the  face  of  his  wife. 
"P'raps  we'd  better  wait  a  bit." 

For  some  minutes  Helen  stood  still 
silently  watching  the  sick  woman.  She 
was  between  thirty  and  forty  years  of 
age,  with  face  prematurely  old.  Her 
ashen-grey  features  were  very  thin  and 
her  lips  swollen  and  open,  while  every 


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349 


few  minutes  she  grasped  faintly  at 
imagfinary  phantoms. 

"Won't  you  take  a  seat,  marm?" 
whispered  Mrs.  Bond.  "Mrs.  'Ard- 
man  has  gone  on  deck  for  a  breath  or 
two  of  fresh  air." 

But  Helen  declined.  The  woman 
moaned  as  she  slept.  Then  with  a 
start  her  eyes  opened  and  she  peered 
toward  the  spot  where  Helen  stood, 
grasping  feebly  with  outstretched 
hand. 

"It's  Willie,"  she  cried  in  a  tone 
muffled  by  her  swollen  tongue.  Her 
eyes  were  wide  open  now.  "Why 
don't  they  let  'im  come  to  me?  And 
there's  Jimmy  and  Jenny,  too.  Oh, 
my  childer!  my  childer!"  And  she 
ended  with  a  low,  tearless  wail.  Her 
friends  tried  to  soothe  her,  but  it  was 
no  use.  Waving  them  back,  she  went 
on  with  a  gasp.  "They  won't  let  'em 
— they  won't  let  'em — but  am  deein* — 
and  it  don't  matter  now." 

"Willie's  the  lad  that  died  last 
year,"  Mrs.  Bond  whispered  to  Helen. 

Mrs.  Jenkins  had  the  only  dry  eyes 
in  the  cramped  little  room.  Women  do 
not  weep  when  they  are  dying.  Saliva 
was  still  drooling  from  her  mouth,  and 
Mrs.  Bond  wiped  it  gently  away  with  a 
soft  rag.  Then  she  gave  her  a  spoon- 
ful of  the  wine  jelly,  which  she  swal- 
lowed with  difficulty.  But  the  cordial 
in  it  soothed  her  and  she  closed  her 
eyes  again. 

"It's  the  reg'lations  about  childer," 
continued  Mrs.  Bond  in  a  low  voice. 
"Soldiers'  wives  cannot  take  their 
childer  wee  'em  on  a  march." 

"Where  are  her  children?"  Helen 
asked  with  trembling  lips. 

"Wee  'er  mother,"  was  the  reply. 
"She  was  wee  'em  hersel'  for  a  week 
after  she  came  back  from  Spain.  And 
they  say  she  cut  up  awful  when  she 
'ad  to  leave  'em  again." 

"Have  you  got  any  children?"  was 
Helen's  next  question,  her  mind  be- 
coming unpleasantly  familiar  with 
actual  facts. 

"Yes,  indeed,  marm!  I've  three 
living — please  God — they  are  pretty 
big  now.  I  used  to  leave  'em  when 
they  were  little  sometimes,  an'  it  was 


killing  work,  I  tell  you.  But  now 
they're  big,  an'  placed;  an'  it's  different 
when  they  can  take  care  of  their- 
selves." 

By  this  time  Mrs.  Hardman  had 
returned.  She  was  younger  than  the 
other  two,  and  although  married  for 
several  years,  perhaps  fortunately  for 
a  soldier's  wife,  she  had  no  children. 

"She's  very  low,  marm,"  was  her 
first  expression. 

"Has  the  Chaplain  been  to  see 
her?"  Helen  asked. 

"Yes,  marm,  'ee  was  here  this 
afternoon,  and  said  'ee'd  come  again 
in  the  mornin'." 

"She  won't  be  living  then,"  said  the 
corporal,  wringing  his  hands.  "Oh, 
my  Betsy,  my  bonny  wife!  What'll  I 
do  without  ye?" 

Her  eyes  slowly  opened  and  rested 
upon  her  husband,  who  was  kneeling 
beside  her.  Gradually  a  rational  look 
came  into  her  face.  A  faint  smile  lit 
up  her  features  as  he  clasped  her  hand. 

"God — bless — you,"  she  whispered. 

"Come,  Helen,"  said  Harold,  gently 
drawing  his  wife  away.  "I  will  have 
the  chaplain  sent  at  once  if  you  like, 
but  I  don't  see  what  he  can  do  now." 

"He  might  comfort  them,  perhaps," 
she  whispered  as  again  she  followed 
him.  "What  awfully  sad  lives  army 
women  have,  anyway,"  she  continued, 
as  she  dashed  away  the  tears  that 
would  persist  in  flowing.  "Too  bad 
for  her  to  die.  I  wonder  if  it  had  to 
be?  And  that  calomel,  I  hate  it.  The 
women  say  that  pints  of  water  have 
been  running  from  her  mouth  for  days. 
No  wonder  she  could  not  eat.  The 
poor  thing's  a  mere  skeleton." 

"Quite  true,  darling!  But  this  is 
something  that  cannot  be  helped,"  said 
Harold,  slipping  his  arm  around 
Helen's  waist  as  they  walked  along 
the  now  quiet  deck.  "And  my  sweet 
wife  must  not  think  she  knows  too 
much.  A  little  knowledge  is  a  danger- 
ous thing,  you  know." 

"I  suppose  you  are  right.  Captain 
Osborne  is  kind-hearted,  and  it  was 
very  good  of  him  to  give  up  his  pretty 
stateroom  to  us.  But  still  I  cannot 
help  wondering  if   it  was  best   for  her 


350 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


to  have  so  much  calomel.  Perhaps 
she  had  to  die — so  many  people  have. 
How  hard,  too,  for  the  women  to  be 
separated  from  their  children  whenever 
they  go  with  their  husbands  on  a  cam- 
paign." 

"  But  it  is  their  husbands'  fault,"  he 
suggested. 

"How  so,  Harold?" 

"Because  soldiers  usually  marry 
without  the  consent  of  their  superior 
officers." 

Spite  of  her  tears,  Helen  smiled  as 
she  caught  the  drift  of  his  words. 

"Often,  too,  the  common  soldier 
enlists  when  drunk,"  he  continued, 
"  and  then,  out  of  revenge,  or  because 
he  has  to;  I  knew  an  officer  who  had 
to;  he  runs  all  risks  and  marries  upon 
the  first  opportunity." 

"  Does  that  often  happen?"  she  asked 
demurely. 

"Yes,  over  and  over  again,"  he 
replied  more  gravely.  "Sometimes  a 
soldier  will  be  married  for  years  before 
his  captain  finds  it  out.  He  has  noth- 
ing to  keep  his  wife  on,  so  he  leaves 
her  with  her  people  or  to  potter  for 
herself  till  he  comes  home  again. 
Then,  in  the  end,  if  a  man  has  been 
steady  and  seldom  in  the  guard-house, 
they  give  him  a  chance  to  take  his  wite 
and  children  with  him,  particularly 
when  there  is  little  marching  to  be 
done;  but  a  tramp  of  a  thousand  miles 
is  a  different  thing." 

"I'm  sorry  for  the  poor  children." 

"Yes,  and  I'm  sorry  for  the  Cor- 
poral. It  will  be  hard  for  him  with 
his  wife  dead  and  his  children  away. 
What  is  more,  sweetheart,  I'm  sorry 
for  Mrs.  Manning,  who  will  have  one 
woman  less  to  go  with  her  on  her 
long  journey." 

"You  foolish  fellow,  I'm  all  right." 
But  she  tightened  her  clasp  upon  his 
arm  and  cuddled  closer. 

"Of  course  you  are,  and  as  brave  a 
woman  as  ever  lived.  But  Mrs. 
Jenkins  would  have  been  a  help  to 
you." 

"Oh,  do  send  the  Chaplain,  please," 
she  interrupted  in  trembling  accents. 

"Yes,  dearest,"  and  he  hastened 
away  on  his  errand. 


CHAPTER   VII 

THE  next  day  was  Sunday,  but  a  sad 
day  on  the  North  King — for  it  was 
known  by  daybreak  throughout  the 
long  line  of  bunks  in  the  forecastle 
that  the  woman  was  dead. 

The  rugged  tars,  inured  to  the  vicis- 
situdes of  warfare,  and  the  hardships 
of  a  never-ending  life  on  the  sea, 
would  have  thought  nothing  of  drop- 
ping a  man  overboard — "for  what  is 
a  man  more  than  a  sheep?"  And  the 
brave  soldiers,  who  time  and  again 
had  rolled  a  fallen  comrade  hastily 
into  a  hole  to  keep  his  body  from  fall- 
ing into  the  hands  of  the  enemy,  would 
only  have  been  putting  one  more  man 
out  of  sight.  But  this  was  a  woman, 
the  wife  of  a  fellow-soldier,  who  had 
dared  to  leave  her  children  that  she 
might  be  with  her  husband  and  his 
comrades  through  all  the  terrors  of  a 
long  midwinter  march.  The  conditions 
were  entirely  different.  In  importance 
there  was  no  comparison.  And  when 
Chaplain  Evans,  after  reading  morn- 
ing prayers,  on  that  still  December 
morning,  announced  that  the  funeral 
service  would  be  at  three  o'clock  in 
the  afternoon,  there  were  compressed 
lips  and  rigid  features,  and  hearts  that 
were  softened.  By-and-bye  all  was 
over  and  the  sealed  bag  was  dropped 
into  the  ocean.  Then  the  men  lined 
up,  and  one  by  one  grasped  the  Cor- 
poral by  the  hand,  mutely  telling  him 
of  their  love  and  sympathy.  It  was 
all  the  poor  fellow  could  stand.  Per- 
haps it  was  bad  form.  They  had 
never  had  a  similar  experience  to  guide 
them.  But  it  told  Corporal  Jenkins 
that  their  hearts  were  true;  and  after 
the  last  clasp  he  strode  away  by  him- 
self and  shed  silent  tears  over  his  lost 
wife  and  motherless  bairns. 

For  two  days  there  was  a  subdued 
aspect  on  board.  The  men  joked  less. 
There  were  fewer  loud  guffaws.  Even 
"Sally"  was  not  sung;  and  all  on 
board,  from  the  Colonel  downward, 
bore  the  aspect  of  men  impressed  with 
the  fact  tnat  something  unusual  had 
happened. 

But  soon  a   change  came.     Every- 


THE  BUILDERS 


35» 


thing  in  the  past  was  forgotten.  The 
actual  present  became  of  vital  moment, 
for  in  the  early  morning: 

"Sail  ahead,"  sounded  from  the 
lookout  on  the  top-gallant-mast. 

"Three-masted,  west  by  sou'-west, 
over  to  larboard." 

"What  flag?"  shouted  the  officer  on 
duty. 

"Too  far  off.  Can't  tell  yet,"  was 
the  answer. 

In  another  minute  Captain  Osborne 
was  there,  too;  and  in  the  distance, 
brightened  by  the  sunlight,  he  dis- 
cerned a  little  speck  of  white  canvas. 
The  hull  of  the  vessel  was  still  hidden 
by  the  curve  of  the  ocean.  Bringing 
his  glass  to  bear,  he  exclaimed  to  Sir 
George,  who  stood  beside  him: 

"I  see  it  now;  and,  by  heaven,  it's 
the  Yankee  flag!" 

"What's  her  course?"  he  yelled  to 
the  man  aloft. 

"Bearing  down  upon  us,  tacking  to 
nor'-east.  Now  I  see  her  flag.  It's 
the  stars  and  stripes.  Looks  like  a 
man-of-war.  The  black  spots  must 
be  her  guns." 

"Clear  ship  for  action,"  shouted  the 
captain  in  ringing  tones. 

Quicker  than  words  can  tell,  the 
decks  were  swept  of  all  but  guns,  can- 
ister and  shot.  Pikes,  pistols  and 
rifles  were  ready.  Gun  tackles  were 
lashed — every  man  at  his  post. 

In  a  few  minutes  the  distant  vessel 
loomed  up  into  clearer  vision.  The 
stars  and  stripes  were  there  sure 
enough.  Sweeping  down  upon  them, 
the  tightly  built  little  craft  was  full  of 
fight  and  bent  upon  the  offensive. 

"She's  plucky  to  attack  us,"  ex- 
claimed the  captain,  "  with  odds  in 
guns  and  ship-room  in  our  favour." 

"Yes,  but  look  at  her  speed.  How 
she  shoots  through  the  water!" 

"There!  She's  tacking  again," 
muttered  the  captain.  "When  her 
broadside  heaves  to  we'll  take  time  by 
the  forelock  and  open  fire.  Be  ready, 
men!"  he  called  out. 

In  another  minute  the  American 
vessel  gracefully  swept  around,  setting 
every  sail  in  good  position  for  the  con- 
flict.     Then  the   captain   signalled  for 


a  round  from  the  larboard  guns. 
Instantly  the  big  cannon  bellowed 
forth  their  messenger  of  death.  But  it 
was  none  too  soon,  for  at  that  very 
moment  smoke  issued  from  the  bow  of 
the  frigate,  and  a  twenty-pound  ball 
plunged  "through  the  ranks  on  the 
deck  of  the  North  King,  shattering  one 
of  the  boats  to  pieces. 

"A  good  shot,"  said  the  captain 
quietly,  as  the  men  carried  off  a  dead 
seaman  and  a  couple  of  wounded 
soldiers. 

"Her  name's  the  Delaware,"  said 
Sir  George,  who  was   using  his  glass. 

"  We've  hit  her,"  ejaculated  the 
captain.  "  There's  a  hole  in  her  fore- 
castle and  her  bowsprit's  gone.  Give 
her  the  rest  of  the  larboard  guns." 

That  the  Delaware  was  injured  was 
evident,  for  although  continuing  to 
fire,  she  tacked  again  and  put  on  full 
sail  to  increase  the  distance  between 
her  and  the  British  ship,  for  a  stiff 
breeze  was  blowing. 

A  fierce  yell  rang  out  from  the  men. 
The  order  for  chase  was  given  and, 
wild  with  enthusiasm,  every  stitch  of 
canvas  was  put  on  to  overtake  the  re- 
treating Delaware.  The  sun  shone 
overhead  among  white  cap  clouds,  and 
the  sea  was  dashing  big  waves  and 
foamy  jets  over  the  sides  of  the  ships; 
while  at  brief  intervals  one  or  other 
continued  to  belch  out  its  thunder  and 
its  shot. 

But  the  distance  was  too  great  for 
many  of  the  balls  to  be  effective.  The 
Yankee  fire  did  some  damage  to  the 
rigging,  and  sent  a  nine-pound  ball 
through  a  port  hole,  making  havoc 
inside  and  killing  a  cook;  but  as  she 
was  gradually  creeping  further  away, 
the  fire  of  the  North  King  did  little 
effectual  service.  Over  and  over 
again  her  gunners  aimed  at  the  mizzen- 
mast  of  the  enemy,  but  it  didn't  budge. 
They  were  not  sure  that  the  shot  even 
touched  her.  The  fight  was  discour- 
aging. At  last  there  was  a  new  man- 
oeuvre on  the  frigate. 

"They  are  making  desperate  efforts 
over  there,"  commented  the  Colonel. 

"Yes,"  exclaimed  Captain  Payne, 
who    was    also    closely  watching   the 


352 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


enemy,  "  they  are  placing  their  biggest 
gun  in  the  stern,  right  behind  the  miz- 
zen-mast.  Our  fire  has  destroyed  the 
railing  and  you  can  see  what  they  are 
at." 

"  Good  Lord!  to  take  us  with  their 
big  ball  as  a  parting  salute,"  was  Os- 
borne's comment.  "But  we'll  be  even 
with  them,"  and  he  hurried  forward  to 
give  orders. 

*'  That  gun  must  be  disabled  at  any 
cost  before  it  can  be  fired,"  he  yelled 
to  his  men,  and  with  another  shout 
they  were  quick  to  do  his  bidding. 

That  the  Delaware  was  determined 
to  carry  out  her  plans  was  evident. 
With  her  stern  to  her  foe,  her  men 
were  taking  in  sail  to  diminish  the  in- 
tervening distance,  and  make  the  shot 
more  telling. 

"  If  they  would  only  let  us  get  with- 
in musket  range  before  they  fire  her," 
suggested  Captain  Payne. 

"  We  might  reach  her  now,"  re- 
turned Sir  George.  "  Give  the  order. 
Captain.  Having  once  fired  that  in- 
fernal cannon  they  will  put  on  sail  and 
run." 

By  Captain  Osborne's  order  half  a 
dozen  balls  whirled  away  from  the 
muzzles  of  the  forward  guns,  simul- 
taneously with  the  crash  of  the  mus- 
ketry. Through  his  glass  Sir  George 
saw  a  gunner  at  the  big  cannon  fall, 
while  the  main  deck  of  the  frigate  was 
torn  up  by  the  cannonading.  But  the 
big  gun  was  still  uninjured  and  the 
Delaware  had  its  revenge.  Another 
seaman  stepped  into  place  and  put  a 
match  to  the  magazine.  Then  with 
terrible  force  the  huge  ball  crashed 
into  the  prow  of  the  North  King.  For- 
tunately it  was  above  water  mark. 

A  yell  could  be  heard  from  the  Am- 
ericans for  they  saw  the  damage  they 
had  done,  but  as  another  broadside 
from  the  liner  smashed  into  their  rig- 
ging, they  hoisted  full  sail  again  and 
gradually  swept  out  of  range. 

The  exasperating  effects  of  slow 
sailing  could  not  be  helped;  and  the 
battle  being  over,  attention  was  di- 
rected to  the  dead  and  the  wounded. 

How  much  the  Delaware  v/a.s  injured 
it  was  impossible  to  tell,   but  that  the 


punishment  was  severe  seemed  evident, 
for  she  did  not  return  to  the  attack. 
Steadily  the  distance  increased  be- 
tween the  two  ships,  and  before  night 
came  the  last  trace  of  the  enemy  was 
discerned  from  the  mast-head,  disap- 
pearing over  the  horizon.  Whether 
she  had  gone  south  for  repairs  or  with 
damaged  sails  was  afraid  of  attacking 
her  big  antagonist  again  was  never 
heard.  The  season  was  far  spent, 
however,  and  winter  having  com- 
menced, ocean  fighting  in  that  north- 
ern region  was  practically  over.  This 
made  the  rest  of  the  sailing  unevent- 
ful, for  United  States  ships  were  not 
seen  again  during  the  balance  of  the 
voyage. 

Much  against  her  will  Helen  re- 
mained in  her  stateroom  during  the 
whole  of  the  contest.  She  had  not 
appeared  on  deck  that  day  when  the 
Delaware  was  first  seen,  and  the  order 
to  clear  the  decks  given.  After  the 
battle  was  over,  however,  she  went  to 
the  prow  of  the  boat  with  Harold  in 
time  to  see  the  clipper's  heels  gradually 
disappearing. 

"  Are  you  glad  it  is  over?"  he  asked, 
as  he  slipped  his  arm  around  her. 

"  I  suppose  I  should  be,"  was  her 
answer,  fixing  her  eyes  on  the  distant 
frigate,  "  but  I  don't  know  that  I  am. 
It  was  audacious  for  a  little  thing  like 
that  to  attack  a  big  war  vessel  like  the 
North  King.  They  have  killed  some 
of  our  men — a  pity  you  didn't  give 
them  a  thrashing." 

"Why,  Helen,  what  a  fighter  you 
are!" 

"It  is  natural,  I  suppose."  This 
time  she  laughed.  "  If  the  feeling 
had  not  been  inherited,  perhaps  I 
would  not  have  been  willing  to  come 
with  you  at  all." 

"And  now  you  cannot  turn  back 
even  if  you  want  to." 

"  But  dearie,  I  don't  and  never  did." 

"Not  even  when  the  enemy  were 
killing  our  men  ?"  he  asked,  looking 
earnestly  into  her  eyes. 

"  No,  not  even  then,"  she  said, 
"  but  I  think  Sir  George  might  have 
let  me  come  on  deck." 

"And    expose  the   only  lady  we've 


THE  BUILDERS 


353 


got,  and  she  my  wife,  to  the  hellish 
dangers    of    battle.      No,  indeed!" 

"  If  we  have  another  fight  I'll  ask 
him,"  was  her  answer. 

•'And  I  suppose  you  think  he  will 
consent." 

But  there  were  no  more  battles. 

The  wounded  men  progressed  fav- 
ourably, considering  that  there  was  no 
regular  surgeon  on  the  ship,  and  by 
the  time  they  reached  port  they  were 
almost  well  again — ready,  at  least,  to 
be  transferred  to  the  military  hospital 
as  convalescents. 

Christmas  was  over  and  the  New  Year 
had  arrived  before  they  passed  Sable 
Island.  But  on  the  next  day  they  left 
McNab  behind  them  and  could  see  the 
little  city  of  Halifax  in  the  distance. 

CHAPTER  VIII 

HELEN  stoodondeck.wrappedinseal 
coat  and  gauntlets,  looking  at  the 
snow-covered  town,  as  the  North  King 
sailed  up  the  harbour.  Many  vessels 
were  already  anchored.  Others,  tak- 
ing advantage  of  the  sea  breeze,  were 
steadily  approaching  their  intended 
moorings.  The  bright  winter  sun 
showed  to  advantage  the  picturesque 
little  city.  The  dazzling  whiteness  of 
the  roofs,  the  varied  contours  of  the 
houses,  the  glittering  pinnacles  of 
church  spires,  the  little  groves  of  naked 
trees,  backed  by  the  ever-green  verdure 
of  pines  and  cedars,  all  helped  to  make 
an  interesting  picture. 

Most  of  the  buildings  were  of  wood, 
many  being  simple  log  cabins;  while 
others  were  block-houses  of  more  pre- 
tentious mien,  whose  timbers  had  been 
hewn  into  shape  in  the  forest  and  then 
hauled  to  the  city  to  be  built.  Here 
and  there  a  more  stately  dwelling,  built 
of  granite  boulders  or  lime-stone  rock, 
mingled  with  the  rest. 

What  added  much  to  the  weird  pic- 
turesqueness  of  the  outlook,  as  Helen 
gazed  upon  it,  was  the  glitter  of  icicles 
from  many  of  the  roofs,  as  the  dazzling 
sunlight  fell  upon  them.  Then  there 
was  the  far-reaching  canopy  of  snow; 
while    over    beyond   the    houses  were 


hills  and  cragged  rocks  and  clumps  of 
trees;  and  back  of  all,  as  distant  as 
eye  could  see,  the  wide,  interminable 
forest. 

"  How  strange!"  she  exclaimed, 
drawing  closer  to  her  husband.  *'  I 
never  thought  it  would  be  like  this." 

"  But  is  it  not  beautiful?"  he  asked. 

"Yes.  Still,  it  looks  like  a  little 
town  at  the  very  end  of  the  world," 
said  Helen  with  a  shiver.  "  Pretty 
indeed,  but  where  are  the  Indians?  Is 
that  the  Citadel?" 

"  Yes,  that's  the  Citadel.  Although 
I  see  no  Indians.  There  are  the  red- 
coats. Look!  yonder  is  a  company  at 
drill." 

"  Ah!  that  is  more  natural!  It  makes 
me  like  it  better.  How  wonderful  it 
all  is!" 

Suddenly  a  violent  gust  of  wind  car- 
ried the  snow  in  drifts  from  the  roofs 
of  the  houses.  A  grey  cloud  swept 
over  the  sun,  and  for  a  brief  space  the 
glittering  whiteness  of  the  prospect 
was  over.  Gradually  the  ship  neared 
the  wharf  and,  protected  by  heavy 
sticks  of  timber  hanging  over  its  side, 
it  ground  against  the  big  bulwarks, 
and  with  huge  ropes  was  made  fast  to 
the  dock. 

Colonel  Mason  and  his  staflF  were 
wailing  for  them,  and  no  sooner  had 
the  gangway  been  laid  than  they  came 
on  board  to  welcome  the  officers  of  the 
big  war-ship,  as  well  as  the  men  of  the 
looth  regiment.  Those  were  not  days 
of  Atlantic  cables  and  telegraphic  dis- 
patches and,  although  word  had  been 
received  by  the  last  ship  from  Liver- 
pool that  Sir  George  Head  was  coming 
out  with  a  small  body  of  troops,  the 
exact  date  of  departure  was  not  an- 
nounced, although  the  period  of  arrival 
was  expecte'd  to  be  earlier  than  this. 

"  Right  welcome!"  exclaimed  Colonel 
Mason,  as  he  shook  Sir  George  and 
Captain  Osborne  by  the  hand.  "Long 
expected,  and  here  at  last." 

"  Rough  voyage!  Six  weeks  of  it. 
Glad  it's  over,"  was  Sir  George's 
laconic  reply,  as  with  equal  heartiness 
he  returned  the  greeting. 

While  introductions  were  being 
made   Helen  and  Harold  stood   in  the 


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background.  The  quick  eye  of  Colonel 
Mason  soon  noted  them. 

•'  Lieutenant  and  Mrs.  Manning," 
said  Sir  George  at  last.  "You  did 
not  know,  Colonel,  that  we  had  a  lady 
on  board." 

"An  unusual,  but  a  pleasant  sur- 
prise," was  the  answer  as  the  officer 
bowed  over  her  hand.  "  I  extend  to 
Mrs.  Manning  and  all  of  you  a  most 
cordial  welcome." 

Helen  looked  very  beautiful  that 
morning.  The  keen  air  had  given  a 
rosy  tint  to  her  check.  Her  eyes 
sparkled  with  interest,  and  her 
closely-fitting  fur  coat  set  off  her 
beauty  to  advantage. 

"We  never  expect  ladies  to  cross 
the  Atlantic  in  midwinter,  particularly 
on  a  man-of-war,"  Colonel  Mason 
continued,  turning  to  her  again.  "  It 
takes  rare  courage,  madam;  and  it  is 
delightful  to  find  it  possessed  by  so 
young  and  charming  a  lady." 

Colonel  Mason  was  a  courteous  and 
gallant  officer  of  the  old  school. 

"Thank  you,  sir,"  she  replied,  her 
face  flushing  with  pleasure.  "  It  was 
a  little  trying  to  be  the  only  one  on 
board;  but  the  officers  were  very  good 
to  me.  I  hope  I  did  not  tax  their 
patience  too  much." 

"  She  was  all  right,"  exclaimed  Sir 
George  with  a  laugh,  "until  after  the 
battle^ust  a  little  skirmish  with  the 
enemy,  you  know — when  she  wanted 
to  instal  herself  as  head  nurse  to  the 
fellows  who  were  wounded — " 

"Oh,  Colonel!"  she  exclaimed  in 
amazement,  turning  suddenly  upon 
him.      "How  could  you ?" 

"Why!  isn't  it  true?"  he  replied 
with  a  merry  twinkle.  "  But,  Mason, 
what  news  of  the  war  ?"  he  continued 
with  more  gravity.  "Word  over  the 
sea  travels  so  confoundedly  slow.  I 
have  heard  nothing  for  two  months." 

"I  am  glad  to  say  the  report  is 
encouraging,"  was  the  reply.  "  Gen- 
eral Hampton's  forces  were  defeated 
by  De  Salaberry  at  Chateauguay  Junc- 
tion; and  both  Hampton  and  Wilkin- 
son have  gone  to  winter  on  the 
American  side  of  the  line.  Then,  too, 
only  a   few  weeks    ago,    Colonel  Mc- 


Clure,  the  terror  of  the  Twenty  Mile 
Creek,  was  driven  back  by  Colonel 
Murray's  regulars,  assisted  by  loyal 
Indians.  Up  to  September  the  invad- 
ers were  right  in  the  country  all  along 
the  line;  but,  thank  God,  we  can  hold 
our  own  now  and  intend  to  keep  it." 

"  That's  good  news.  And  how  is  it 
on  the  lakes?" 

"Ah,  that  is  different.  So  far  we 
have  had  the  worst  of  it.  That  naval 
battle  of  Put-in- Bay  was  a  terrible  dis- 
aster to  us.  Commodore  Perry,  of  the 
American  fleet,  was  too  much  for  Bar- 
clay. It  ended  in  a  perfect  rout.  In 
their  hands  all  our  officers  and  half  the 
crews  of  our  boats  were  either  killed 
or  wounded.  The  fact  is  that  battle 
undid  all  that  Brock  accomplished  by 
his  great  victory  at  Hull." 

"That's  bad,  indeed.  But  what  of 
Michigan?  Surely  you  have  better 
news  from  there." 

"Gone  from  us  forever,  I'm  afraid. 
We  must  be  satisfied  if  we  can  hold 
our  own  territory;  but  that  we're  bound 
to  do." 

"To  which  we  all  say  *Aye,'"  and 
Sir  George's  words  were  echoed  by 
the  little  group  of  men  that  had  gath- 
ered around  them. 

"  You  have  dispatches  for  me,  I 
believe,"  said  Colonel  Mason,  prepar- 
ing to  lead  the  way. 

"  Yes,"  replied  Sir  George.  "I  will 
give  them  to  you  when  we  reach  the 
Citadel." 

Sleighs  with  broad  runners  curled 
up  behind  and  before,  comfortably 
cushioned,  and  plentifully  supplied 
with  Buffalo  robes,  awaited  them; 
and  cheers  rang  out  from  the  crowd  on 
the  wharf  as  the  officers,  with  Helen 
by  the  side  of  her  husband,  landed  and 
took  their  seats.  In  a  few  minutes 
the  sleighs  in  single  file  dashed  away 
in  the  direction  of  the  Fort. 

"  This  is  just  lovely,"  cried  Helen  in 
glee.  She  had  never  seen  a  sleigh  be- 
fore. The  ponies  trotted  off  at  a 
swinging  pace,  the  circlet  of  bells 
around  each  of  them  ringing  out  mer- 
rily. 

"  They  say  first  impressions  are  a 
sure    omen    of   the    future,"  returned 


THE  BUILDERS 


355 


Harold.  "This  is  my  first  sleigh  ride, 
too,  and  like  you,  I  am  delighted." 

•'  Look  at  those  boys  and  girls," 
she  cried  again  as  they  turned  a  cor- 
ner. Hand-sleighs  and  toboggans, 
loaded  with  children,  were  shooting 
down  a  neighbouring  hill  at  a  seem- 
ingly tremendous  speed.  '*  I  wonder 
if  some  of  them  won't  be  killed?" 

"Not likely,"  replied  Harold.  "They 
are  used  to  it.  And  use  is  second 
nature.  You'll  be  coasting  yourself 
some  day  when  we  get  to  Penetang. " 

'  *  Coasting?   Is  that  what  they  call  it?" 

Soon  the  sport  of  the  children  was 
out  of  view.  Another  turn  was  made 
and,  after  driving  along  a  level  street, 
they  ascended  the  hill  to  the  Citadel. 

"These  orders  are  very  explicit," 
said  Colonel  Mason  to  Sir  George 
three  hours  later,  as  the  two  sat  to- 
gether before  a  blazing  fire.  They 
were  the  only  occupants  of  the  room. 

"That's  Wellington's  forte,"  was 
the  answer.  "  Emphatic  precision  in 
the  smallest  detail,  as  well  as  the  larg- 
est. Not  a  bad  policy  either,  if  it  is 
an  iron  rule." 

Colonel  Mason  read  on: 

"  '  Two  companies  of  the  looth  reg- 
iment under  Sir  George  Head,  to 
march  from  Halifax  on  snow-shoes  or 
otherwise  through  Nova  Scotia  and 
New  Brunswick  to  Quebec.  Then  on 
to  Montreal  and  up  the  Ottawa  river 
to  Hull.  From  there  to  travel  as 
nearly  due  west  as  possible  on  the 
lines  of  the  Old  Jesuit  Mission  trail 
through  to  Georgian  Bay  on  Lake 
Huron,  which  will  be  their  destination. 
Upon  which  bay  a  garrison  must  forth- 
with be  erected.  All  goods,  ammuni- 
tion, and  garrison  effects  required 
must  be  carried  on  sleighs  accompany- 
ing the  troops;  and,  when  necessary, 
roads  must  be  specially  made  for  the 
purpose.  One  imperative  order  of  the 
march  is  that  the  column  must  arrive 
at  Lake  Huron  before  the  winter  is 
over  and  the  ice  broken  up — otherwise 
the  latter  part  of  the  march  will  be 
much  more  difficult  to  accomplish.'" 

"And  when  is  the  break-up  likely  to 
take  place?"  Sir  George  asked. 


"About  the  beginning  of  April," 
was  the  reply. 

"Which  means  that  in  less  than 
three  months,  in  the  dead  of  winter,  we 
must  travel  a  thousand  miles,  and  that 
a  large  part  of  the  journey  will  be 
through  forest  that  has  never  been 
broken." 

"A  severe  undertaking,"  was  Col- 
onel Mason's  comment.  "  But  as  the 
marshes  and  lakes  will  all  be  frozen, 
the  winter  season  is  in  your  favour,  Sir 
George.  The  only  pity  is  that  you  were 
not  here  before  Christmas,  then  your 
time  would  have  been  more  ample." 

"  We  expected  to  arrive  three  weeks 
ago.  It  was  the  storms  and  not  the 
skirmish  that  delayed  us." 

"Something  you  could  not  avoid. 
How  many  men  have  you,  Colonel?" 

"  Full  complement.  Two  full  com- 
panies with  the  exception  of  several 
killed  and  half  a  dozen  wounded." 

"  A  few  men  of  your  regiment  were 
left  with  us  by  the  Marquis  of  Tweed- 
dale  when  he  went  west.  What  say 
you  to  exchanging  your  men  on  the 
sick  list  and  filling  up  your  number?  If 
I  mistake  not,  you  will  need  every 
man." 

"  Thank  you — a  good  suggestion." 

"  What  about  stores  for  the  jour- 
ney?" 

"Oh!  the  North  King\\2iS  a  full  sup- 
ply; but  it  will  take  some  days  to  un- 
load, as  well  as  to  secure  horses  and 
guides;  and  in  this  matter  we  will  have 
to  call  upon  you  for  assistance." 

"  I  had  orders  from  the  war  office 
to  that  effect  some  time  ago,  so  you 
will  have  nothing  to  fear  on  that  score. 
Both  men  and  horses  will  be  ready  for 
inspection  to-morrow.  The  enigma  to 
me  is:  what  is  Lieutenant  Manning 
going  to  do  with  his  wife?  I  under- 
stood from  her  at  lunch  that  she  ex- 
pected to  go  with  you." 

"That  is  the  intention,"  said  Sir 
George,  smiling  at  the  amazement  of 
his  host. 

"  Ye  gods,"  cried  the  latter.  "  Do 
I  understand  that  this  youngand  charm- 
ing lady  is  to  accompany  you  through 
all  the  hardships  of  a  midwinter  jour- 
ney across  half  a  continent?" 


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THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


' '  Hardly  that,  Mason.  Say  a  quarter 
instead  of  half.  Still  the  arrangement 
is  final  so  far  as  a  woman  can  make  it 
so,"  was  Sir  George's  answer. 

**  Well,  it  beats  me.  But  you  must 
have  other  women  with  you  of  the 
looth.      She  cannot  be   the  only  one." 

"We  had  three  soldiers'  wives,  but 
unfortunately  one  of  them  died  on  the 
way.  Under  the  circumstances  is  there 
anything  you  can  suggest  that  will 
make  it  easier  for  Mrs.  Manning?" 

**  Only  this,  that  if  the  journey  for 
her  is  absolutely  decided  upon  when 
you  arrive  at  Quebec,  pick  out  one  or 
two  first-class  habitant  women  to  go 
with  her.  When  you  secure  good  ones 
they  are  invaluable.  They  know  the 
country  and  can  endure  anything,  are 
as  bright  as  crickets,  and  as  sharp  as 
steel  traps." 

*'  A  good  idea.  Colonel.  Thank 
you.      I'll  make  a  note  of  it." 

"  But  what  is  all  this  about.  Sir 
George  ?  What  do  you  really  expect 
to  do  when  you  reach  Penetang?" 

"  The  order  is  to  establish  a  fort, 
start  a  shipyard,  and  found  a  colony; 
and  when  the  end  is  accomplished 
leave  one  of  my  officers  in  command 
and  return  home." 

'*  I  see,  I  see,  and  that  officer  is  to 
be  Lieutenant  Manning." 

"  I  did  not  say  so,"  said  Sir  George 
with  a  smile. 

A  tap  at  the  door  interrupted  the 
conversation.  Colonel  Mason  arose 
and  opened  it. 

"May  I  come  in  ?"  was  the  ques- 
tion, and  a  sweet-faced,  grey-haired 
lady  presented  herself. 

"  Certainly,  my  dear,"  replied  her 
husband.  "  Sir  George  and  I  were 
just  finishing  our  conversation." 

"  I  hope  I  am  not  intruding,"  she 
answered,  looking  from  one  to  the 
other,  "  for  if  at  liberty  there  is  some- 
thing I  would  like  to  speak  to  you 
about,  while  you  are  together." 

"We  are  at  your  service,"  replied 
Sir  George,  "  and  so  far  as  I  am  con- 
cerned, you  could  not  have  chosen  a 
better  moment." 

And,  so  saying,  he  courteously 
placed  a  chair  for  her. 


CHAPTER   IX 

"I'M  all    in    a    flutter,    and    scarcely 

■'-  know  how  to  begin,"  commenced 
Mrs.  Mason,  stroking  down  the  folds 
of  her  dress,  and  looking  timidly  at 
Sir  George. 

"  Well,  what  is  it  about,  Marion  ?" 
Colonel  Mason  asked,  surprised  at  such 
an  unusual  exhibition  of  feeling  on  the 
part  of  his  wife. 

"Oh!  it's  about  that  dear  young 
creature  you  brought  over  with  you, 
Sir  George.  She  tells  me  that  she  is 
going  with  her  husband  and  the  troops 
right  through  that  dreadful  forest. 
The  idea  is  terrible.  Perhaps  I  have 
no  right  to;  but  I  beg  to  intercede. 
Can  not  the  plan  be  changed  ?" 

"  Did  Mrs.  Manning  wish  you  to 
intercede  ?"  Sir  George  quietly  asked. 

"No,  indeed!  I  did  not  even  tell 
her  what  I  thought,  but  waited  until  I 
could  obtain  your  permission  to  speak." 

"  Do  you  know,  Mrs.  Mason,  that 
it  is  by  her  own  desire  that  she  is  go- 
ing ?"  said  Sir  George  gravely. 

"  But  she  doesn't  know,"  protested 
Mrs.  Mason,  emphatically.  "It  would 
be  a  shame  to  take  such  a  young  girl 
out  and  let  her  freeze  to  death  on  that 
terrible  journey." 

"No  danger  of  that,  I  think,"  was 
the  smiling  rejoinder.  "The  officers 
of  the  looth  regiment  are  too  gallant 
to  allow  such  a  thing  to  occur." 

"  Oh,  I  know  you  will  do  what  you 
can,"  returned  Mrs.  Mason,  changing 
her  attitude  a  little,  "but  when  you 
think  of  the  snow  and  the  ice  and  the 
intense  cold,  and  all  the  terrors  of  the 
trip,  would  it  not  be  better  to  let  her 
stay  with  us  for  the  winter,  and  have 
her  go  on  to  the  new  fort  in  the  summer 
after  it  is  built  ?" 

"Ah!  That  is  an  entirely  different 
matter,  and  very  kind  of  you  to  pro- 
pose it.  But  if  I  know  Mrs.  Manning 
aright,  she  will  be  the  last  person  in 
the  world  to  consent  to  a  change  in  the 
programme." 

"  But  may  I  not  speak  to  her?  I 
know  Colonel  Mason  will  consent." 

"  Certainly,  my  dear,"  assented  that 
gentleman. 


THE  BUILDERS 


357 


"  May  I  ask  her  to  remain  with  us 
for  a  few  months  then  ?"  she  said  again 
turning  to  Sir  George. 

*'  Undoubtedly  you  may.  And  if 
she  is  willing  to  stay  in  Halifax  for 
the  winter,  with  her  husband's  consent 
of  course,  I  shall  be  very  happy  to 
leave  her  to  your  care." 

Thanking  Sir  George  for  acceding 
to  her  request,  Mrs.  Mason  withdrew, 

'*  It  is  a  dilemma,"  said  Colonel 
Head,  after  the  door  had  closed. 
"And  probably  a  more  serious  one 
than  I  imagined  when  I  sanctioned  it. 
Still  I  think  the  pros  and  contras  will 
balance  each  other.  The  presence  of 
a  lady  in  our  midst  may  render  our 
march  a  little  more  troublesome,  pos- 
sibly make  our  speed  a  little  slower; 
as  well  as  necessitate  greater  care  in 
our  appointments  on  the  road.  But  it 
will  have  a  good  effect,  too.  Mrs. 
Manning  is  a  true  lady  and  is  thor- 
oughly in  love  with  her  husband.  So 
it  will  put  the  fellows  on  their  honour 
and  make  them  show  a  bit  of  genuine 
chivalry  as  well.  She  is  as  bright  as 
a  fairy,  has  lots  of  pluck;  and,  what  is 
more,  has  a  capital  voice.  We  can  take 
care  of  her  and  I  don't  think  we'll  be 
out  in  the  end." 

*'  From  your  view  of  the  case,  I 
don't  think  you  will,"  was  Mason's 
comment.  "Still  the  thing  is  so  un- 
precedented that  it  will  be  impossible 
to  eliminate  the  element  of  risk." 

"  Life  would  not  be  worth  living  if 
we  could, "  returned  Sir  George.  '  *  We 
always  have  it." 

"  Well!  here's  to  a  successful  march 
and  happy  ending,  whether  you  take 
the  lady  with  you  or  not." 

And  the  two  gentlemen  touched 
their  glasses  and  drank  the  toast. 

By  this  time  Mrs.  Mason  had  re- 
turned to  her  own  little  parlour  where 
Helen  was  still  resting.  Extending 
both  hands  she  exclaimed:  "  I  have 
got  it  beautifully  arranged,  my  dear; 
you  are  to  stay  with  us  for  the  winter. 
Sir  George  Head  has  given  his  con- 
sent." 

"  But,  my  dear  Mrs.  Mason  " 

"Now  no  objecting  at  all,"  inter- 
rupted that  lady  with  great  vivacity  as 


she  held  Helen's  hands  tightly  within 
her  own.  "You  need  not  say  a  word 
but  accept  the  conditioqs.  The  idea 
of  you  going  in  January  on  that  deso- 
late trip  is  terrible.  It  is  appalling. 
Now  you  must  stay  with  me  and  enjoy 
Halifax  while  your  husband  with  the 
rest  of  the  men  cut  the  road  through 
the  woods  and  build  the  fort;  then 
you  " 

"This  will  not  do,  Mrs.  Mason," 
Helen  in  turn  interrupted.  Her  face 
was  already  flushed  with  excitement. 
"It  is  very  good  of  you — but  really 
you  do  not  understand  the  conditions. 
My  going  with  the  troops  is  impera- 
tive. I  am  sorry  you  spoke  upon  this 
subject  to  Sir  George,  for  the  only 
reason  I  had  in  crossing  the  ocean  was 
to  go  with  my  husband  and  the  soldiers 
on  this  journey." 

"But  the  intense  cold?" 

"  I  have  lots  of  woollen  things  and 
furs." 

"  For  hundreds  of  miles  there  is  not 
a  house. " 

"  The  men  will  build  shanties  and 
heat  them  with  big  fires." 

"  But  the  wolves!  In  winter  they 
are  intensely  savage  and  hunt  in  large 
packs." 

Here  Helen  discomfited  her  hostess 
by  a  ringing  peal  of  laughter. 

"Pity  if  two  companies  of  soldiers 
cannot  keep  a  pack  of  wolves  from 
eating  up  a  poor  lone  woman,"  she 
exclaimed.  "  No,  no,  Mrs.  Mason, 
argument  is  out  of  the  question.  I 
came  to  go  with  them,  and  go  I  will." 

"  I  suppose  I  must  give  up  then," 
said  Mrs.  Mason,  pensively.  "You 
are  incomprehensible.  To  think  of  a 
girl  giving  up  home  and  friends  and 
undertaking  such  a  journey  in  the  dead 
of  winter,   beats  me." 

"Ah!  but  there's  something  at  the 
end  of  it,  Mrs.  Mason,"  returned 
Helen  warmly,  "  which  will  repay  one 
for  all  the  difficulties  and  fatigues  by 
the  way." 

"And  what  is  that,  pray?" 

"They  say  that  Penetanguishene 
and  all  the  islands  there  make  one  of 
the  most  beautiful  pictures  in  the  wide 
world.     The  old  Jesuit  Fathers  used 


358 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


to  declare  that  the  rocky  islands  of  the 
bay  were  in  summer  just  like  Para- 
dise." 

"And  to  prove  it,"  exclaimed  Mrs. 
Mason,  "they  froze  to  death  in  the 
winter  to  be  sure  of  the  comparison; 
but  never  mind,  my  dear,  if  you  are 
determined  to  go  we  must  do  our  best 
to  make  the  trip  comfortable  for  you. 
You  shall  have  a  little  break  in  the 
tedium  of  travel,  anyway.  Our  an- 
nual military  ball  takes  place  here  on 
Friday  night,  and  you  must  be  our 
honoured  guest.  It  will  not  be  as  large 
££s  usual,  for  some  of  our  officers  have 
been  killed  in  the  war  and  others 
have  been  wounded.  Still  it  will  be 
nice,  and  the  Governor,  Sir  John 
Sherbrooke,  and  his  wife  will  both  be 
there." 

"  I  am  afraid  I  have  not  anything  to 
wear,"  said  Helen.  "  You  know  1  did 
not  expect  to  attend  balls  in  my  new 
life  in  the  woods." 

"  But  what  of  your  wedding  dress  ?" 

"That  was  of  white  satin,  but,  of 
course,  it  was  high  neck  and  with  long 
sleeves." 

"Still  you  must  have  had  lace  and 
ornaments  of  one  sort  or  another  with 
you  ?" 


"Oh,  yes.  I  have  some  rare  old 
India  lace  of  my  mother's,  and  a  white 
crepe  veil  that  my  grandmother  wore 
at  her  wedding." 

"  Well,  you  have  the  materials. 
That  is  very  fortunate.  And  as  there 
are  two  more  days,  we'll  see  what  my 
own  dressmaker  can  do  for  you." 

"And  where  is  the  ball  to  be?" 
Helen  asked  with  growing  interest. 

"  In  the  grand  Hall  at  the  Citadel. 
And  let  me  whisper  in  your  ear.  We 
will  see  that  you  are  the  belle  of  the 
evening." 

"You  forget  I  am  an  old  married 
woman, "exclaimed  Helen  with  a  laugh. 

"  Perhaps  you  are,"  commented 
Mrs.  Mason,  raising  her  eyebrows, 
"but  nevertheless  you  will  conquer  the 
hearts  of  the  men — every  one  of  them." 

Just  then  Harold  entered  the  room, 
and  hearing  Mrs.  Mason's  statement, 
he  laughingly  declared  that  he  was 
already  jealous.  But  when  she  told 
him  of  the  discussion  relative  to  the 
prospective  overland  journey,  he  folded 
his  wife  in  his  arms  and  kissed  her — 
not  once  nor  twice — but  thrice. 
Whereupon  Mrs.  Mason  put  on  her 
spectacles  and  commenced  to  count 
over  the  names  of  the  invited  guests. 


TO     BE     CONTI  NUED 


'ARRY'S    CANNIBAL 

A    STORY    OF    THE    EMPIRE 
By   W.    VICTOR  COOK 


OULD  they  never  come? 
The  vast  patient  throng, 
caked  in  two  solid  human 
walls  for  a  long,  long  mile 
through  the  city's  heart, 
waited  as  they  had  waited  for  an  hour, 
for  two  hours,  for  three  hours  and 
more,  growing  ever  denser  and  denser, 
till  you  could  not  have  wedged  a 
child  in  edgeways.  Breathing  its  own 
hot  breath,  panting  for  a  mouthful  of 
the  cool  breeze  that  fluttered  the  wild- 
erness of  streaming  banners,  it  gazed 
up    enviously    at   the    crowded    roofs, 


the  thousand  windows  crammed  with 
eager  watchers,  the  hoardings  where 
the  moneyed  ones  were  perched,  the 
trees  in  the  park,  the  railings  and  the 
lamp  posts  where  the  agile  poor  had 
gained  precarious  foothold.  Would 
they  never  come  ? 

Just  behind,  where  the  Coldstreams 
with  their  towering,  picturesque  beav- 
ers held  clear  the  roadway,  'Arry  was 
wedged  among  the  rest.  'Arry  was 
lanky  and  thin,  which  is  a  great  thing 
to  be  in  a  crowd.  His  pinched,  anaemic 
London  face  was   tense   with  expecta- 


'ARRY'S    CANNIBAL 


359 


tion,  and  his  grey  eyes  blazed  with  an 
enthusiasm  born  of  the  trumpet-calls 
and  the  tramping. 

Would  they  never  come?  Here  and 
there  bruised  and  fainting  women, 
half-suffocated  children,  were  wedged 
out  backward  from  the  crowd;  and  the 
great  mass  lurched  forward  solider 
than  ever,  and  bent  outward  the  files  of 
soldiers  and  police  who  vainly  tried  to 
hold  the  passage  clear  for  the  "City's 
Own"  to  pass  by.  Then  to  the  rescue  of 
the  weaker  parts  would  ride  mounted 
constabulary  and  lifeguardsmen  and 
dragoons,  with  waving  plumes  and 
beautiful, intelligenthorsesthat  pressed 
the  thronging  thousands  back  with  such 
gentle  firmness  that  they  almost  seemed 
human.  Then  the  bent  ranks  of  in- 
fantry would  stiffen  again,  and  the 
narrowed  roadway  would  remain  for 
a  space  intact. 

Ah !  what  were  they  doing  up  there — 
thosefortunate  ones  on  the  turreted  roof 
of  yonder  vast  hotel  ?  Was  it — were 
they — yes!  "They're  comin'!  They're 
comin'!"  Like  a  wave  on  the  shore 
that  cry  ran  along  the  lips  of  the  gasp- 
ing thousands,  and  half  drowned 
through  the  midst  of  it  came  the 
throbbing  pulse  of  the  drum,  and  a  fit- 
ful blare  of  brass.  Soon  between  the 
serried  ranks  of  the  military  could  be 
caught  glimpses  of  khaki  helmets  and 
shoulders  swaying  up  and  down,  mo- 
mentary peeps  of  brown-featured 
youths  and  men,  and  the  glint  of  rifles 
and  bayonets.  Then  all  other  sounds 
were  swallowed  up  in  the  deep  wel- 
come of  twenty  thousand  voices.  One 
twenty  thousand  passed  it  to  the  next, 
and  so  it  came  from  the  Arch  round  to 
the  Park,  and  went  on  from  the  Park 
to  Pall  Mall,  over  black- packed  Tra- 
falgar Square  and  up  the  bannered 
perspective  of  the  Strand. 

'Arry  was  not  among  the  shouters. 
He  could  not  have  shouted  for  a  for- 
tune. But  as  he  stood  behind  the 
Coldstreams  and  watched  the  brown- 
faced  men  go  by,  there  was  a  great 
aching  lump  in  his  throat,  and  the 
tears  ran  unheeded  down  his  pale 
cheeks.  His  heart  was  filled  with  un- 
utterable exultation  in  his  countrymen. 


Deep  love  for  his  country,  deep  pride 
in  the  honour  of  her  great  name, 
warmed  at  that  moment  the  whole  be- 
ing of  this  gaunt  and  ill-clad  child  of 
misfortune,  as  he  felt  the  beating  of  an 
Empire's  naked  heart. 

When  the  procession  had  passed, 
'Arry  worked  clear  of  the  throng  and 
took  his  way  home.  Home  meant  for 
him  a  couple  of  back  rooms  amid  the 
miscellaneous  rascalities  of  what,  in 
spite  of  official  re-christenings,  its 
habitues  persist  in  knowing  as  the 
"  'Ighway,"  otherwise  old  Ratcliffe 
Highway.  There  'Arry  supported  his 
mother  and  himself  by  keeping  the 
books  of  an  individual  who  described 
himself  as  a  marine  store  dealer. 

Along  the  sordid  squalor  of  that 
interminable  roadway  by  the  river, 
'Arry  trudged  with  limbs  that  were 
wearj'  indeed,  yet  with  flushed  cheek 
and  flashing  eye.  For  child  of  misery 
though  he  was,  his  soul  had  drunk 
deep  that  day.  His  glances  fell  on 
the  squalid  meanness  of  the  riverside 
slums,  but  the  eye  of  his  kindled  imag- 
ination roved  over  lands  and  seas,  and 
the  wheels  of  his  brain  wove  fantastic 
visions  of  the  great  unknown.  He, 
too,  was  a  citizen  of  this  great  city, 
whose  sons  went  out  and  brought 
back  fame  in  their  hands  from  the 
uttermost  parts  of  the  earth.  He  in 
his  poverty  was  a  constituent  part  of 
this  vast  and  noble  Empire.  Such 
thoughts,  dimly  conceived,  filled  him 
with  a  strange,  proud  fire. 

A  clamour  of  strident  voices  close 
at  hand  brought  back  his  soaring 
imagination  with  a  jerk  to  the  ordinary 
doings  of  the  'Ighway. 

A  noisy,  angry  group  was  collected 
round  the  door  of  a  small  green-gro- 
cery shop,  and  lively  abuse  was  being 
freely  showered,  with  much  vain  rep- 
etition of  unpublishable  terms.  Above 
the  voices  came  the  shrill  tones  of  a 
woman — the  keeper  of  the  green- 
grocery shop. 

"The  dirty,  black,  thievin'  canni- 
bal," she  cried.  "If  I  'adn't  'ave 
ketched  his  greasy  paw  in  the  nick  of 
time  'e'd  'ave  been  'arf  way  to  Japan 
by  now." 


360 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


"  We'll  soon  'ave  'im  in  quod, 
Missis,"  a  man's  voice  answered. 
"'Old  still,  yer  sooty  savage,  or  I'll 
bloomin'  well  throttle  yer!" 

Peering-  through  the  group,  'Arry 
beheld  a  native  of  India,  gaunt  and 
tall,  in  the  cotton  dress  of  a  coolie  from 
one  of  the  eastern  liners,  and  with  a 
look  of  puzzled  fear  beneath  his  ragged 
turban. 

"  What  has  he  done  ?"  asked  'Arry. 

"Pinched  the  lidy's  bananas,"  he 
was  informed. 

'*  I  was  hungry.  I  ate  nothing  for 
three  days,"  said  the  Hindu  apologet- 
ically, with  the  uncertain  accent  and 
slow  speech  of  one  talking  an  alien 
tongue. 

"Yer  can  tell  that  to  the  Beak  to- 
morrow, yer  Sorrow  of  Satan,"  said 
the  irate  shopwoman. 

The  Indian  looked  from  one  to 
another  of  the  angry  faces  round  him. 
A  sudden  pity  for  his  forlorn  condition 
welled  up  in  'Arry's  heart.  The  wave 
of  generous  patriotism  that  had 
brought  him  thus  far  on  his  homeward 
way  had  not  yet  spent  its  force  ;  and 
undefined,  but  strong,  the  sentiment 
came  to  him  that  this  man,  also,  was 
a  child   of  the  Empire  of  his  dreams. 

"  How  much  did  he  take?"  he  asked. 

"Threepennorth  of  best  bananies," 
said  the  shopwoman. 

"  Ifl  pay  forthem  willyou  lethimgo?" 

The  proposition  took  the  bystanders 
with  such  surprise  that  the  man  who 
was  holding  the  stranger's  skinny  arm 
nearly  let  go. 

"Is  'e  a  pal  of  yours,  'Arry?"  he 
said.  "  I  thought  you  was  such  a 
respectable  bloke." 

"  I  don't  know  him,"  'Arry  an- 
swered, painfully  conscious  of  blushing. 
But  he  held  to  his  point.  "I'll  pay, 
if  you'll  let  him  go,"  he  said.  And 
from  his  pocket  he  produced  three- 
pence— their  entire  contents,  which  he 
had  thought  to  save  by  walking  home. 

The  shopwoman  coughed  the  cough 
of  hesitation.  "Of  course,  'Arry," 
she  said,  "if  you  tikes  a  hinterest  in 
such  a  cannibal  savage,  I  wouldn't  go 
for  to  oppose  you,  seein'  your  mother 
is    such    a   good    customer.     Though 


these  stealin'  furriners  is  a  disgrice  to 
a  respectable  neighbourhood." 

Thus  relieving  herself  of  all  re- 
sponsibility, the  lady  accepted  the 
coppers  which  'Arry  tendered,  and 
gave  him  in  exchange  the  three  bananas 
which  had  so  nearly  landed  the  Indian 
in  the  arms  of  the  police. 

"  Here  you  are,  mate,"  said  'Arry, 
when  the  little  group  in  dumb  curi- 
osity had  stood  aside  to  let  the  prisoner 
go  with  his  liberator.  He  handed  him 
a  couple  of  the  bananas.  To  his  sur- 
prise and  disgust  the  man  seized  his 
hand  and  kissed  it.  'Arry  pulled  it 
away,  and  made  haste  to  get  out  of 
sight  of  the  smiles  of  the  bystanders. 
But  the  Hindu  still  kept  beside  him, 
walking  the  dusty  pavement  with  bare, 
noiseless  feet.  In  his  slow,  deliberate 
accents  he  began  to  express  thanks. 
Halting  now  and  again  for  a  word,  or 
pausing  to  arrange  a  sentence  in  his 
mind  ere  speaking  it,  he  told  'Arry  how 
he  had  missed  his  way  in  returning  to 
his  ship  at  the  docks,  so  that  she  had 
left  ere  he  reached  her  berthing  ;  how 
for  three  days  he  had  wandered  home- 
less and  hungry — all  his  property  being 
on  board — till  the  moment  when  hun- 
ger overcame  him  at  the  green-grocery 
stall. 

'Arry  listened  sympathetically,  yet 
with  the  wariness  of  an  East-ender,  to 
the  alien's  tale,  and  could  not  help  be- 
coming impressed  by  a  certain  quiet 
dignity  about  his  new  acquaintance. 
Indeed,  long  before  they  arrived  at 
the  place  he  called  his  home,  he  had 
quite  lost  his  first  inclination  to  patro- 
nise the  man,  and  had,  on  the  contrary, 
begun  to  regard  him  with  more  re- 
spect than  he  could  have  believed  it 
possible  to  entertain  for  one  of  his 
colour. 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do  now?" 
he  asked. 

"  I  shall  try  to  find  another  ship 
where  I  may  work,"  said  the  Indian. 
"It  is  difficult."  He  smiled  in  a 
grave,  tranquil  way. 

"  If  you  like,  you  may  share  my 
room  till  you  find  a  ship,"  on  an  im- 
pulse which,  when  the  words  were  out, 
he  half  regretted. 


'ARRV'S   CANNIBAL 


361 


The  Hindu  answered  simply  '*  I  will 
come.     You  have  a  kind  heart." 

Not  without  embarrassment,  'Arry 
introduced  his  guest,  whose  name,  he 
found,  was  Ramjai.  Ramjai,  when 
washed  and  fed,  was  as  fine  a  type  of 
man  as  one  could  wish  to  see.  He 
might  have  been  anywhere  between 
twenty  and  thirty,  'Arry  and  his 
mother,  who  were  not  accustomed  to 
taking  in  Oriental  boarders,  could  not 
tell  more  exactly  than  this. 

By  'Arry's  neighbours  the  stranger 
was  from  the  first  christened  '"Arry's 
Cannibal,"  though  where  his  canni- 
balistic propensities  came  in,  it  was 
hard  to  see,  fish  being  the  nearest  ap- 
proach to  a  meat  diet  that  he  was  ever 
known  to  consume. 

For  a  week  Ramjai  lived  on  the 
charity  of  the  mother  and  son.  Then 
one  day  he  informed  'Arry,  with 
beaming  satisfaction,  that  he  had 
found  employment.  It  was  a  clerk- 
ship in  a  little  tea  shop,  where  the 
proprietor  doubtless  calculated  that 
Ramjai's  striking  appearance  would 
make  an  attractive  advertisement  and 
lend  local  colour  to  Best  Ceylon  Tea 
at  a  shilling  the  pound.  The  pay, 
truly,  was  ridiculous,  but  then  Ramjai's 
expenditure  was  small,  and  he  was 
able  to  live  in  comfort  in  a  little  room 
which  he  hired  in  the  same  house  as 
'Arry  and  his  mother. 

There  Ramjai  abode  many  weeks, 
showing  no  disposition  to  get  away, 
and  becoming  less  and  less  an  object 
of  curiosity  to  the  neighbours,  as  he 
discarded  his  picturesque  Oriental 
dress  for  an  English  coat  and  trousers. 

The  weeks  passed  into  months,  and 
in  the  winter  'Arry's  mother  succumbed 
in  the  struggle  against  poverty,  and 
died  of  a  chill.  In  his  great  trouble 
'Arry  found  in  Ramjai  a  ready  sympa- 
thiser and,  differing  utterly  as  they  did 
in  race  and  culture  and  cast  of  thought, 
the  two  young  men  became  like  brothers. 

Ramjai  spoke  little  of  himself,  and 
of  his  people  nothing. 

It  was  a  year  since  'Arry  went  to 
the  city  to  see  the  young  men  come 
home  from  the  war.      Ramjai  appeared 

5 


to  have  settled  down  to  live  his  life  in 
London. 

One  day  'Arry  was  in  sad  distress. 
Ramjai,  coming  in  the  evening  into  the 
little  room  which  they  shared  as  a  sit- 
ting room,  found  his  friend  at  the 
table,  his  head  on  his  arms,  his  eyes 
wet  with  tears  that  he  tried  shame- 
facedly to  hide. 

"Tell me — it  may  be  that  I  can  help," 
said  Ramjai,  who  held  a  letter  in  his 
hand. 

'Arry  told  him.  He  was  in  love. 
That  the  Indian  had  known,  for  every 
evening  'Arry  would  be  away  with  a 
bright-faced  young  girl,  a  teacher  in  a 
neighbouring  elementary  school.  They 
were  both  poor,  and  she  had  been 
offered  a  lot  of  money  to  go  and  teach 
ever  so  far  away — in  Calcutta.  She 
was  going.  Bitterly  'Arry  blamed 
himself  because  he  could  not  earn 
enough  to  dare  to  marry  her.  He 
would  never  see  her  again,  of  that  he 
was  sure.  Fate  was  against  him.  He 
was  utterly  wretched. 

"  Did  you  say  Calcutta?"  said  Ram- 
jai, when  the  story  of  'Arry's  griefs 
was  ended.  He  was  smiling.  Suddenly 
his  glance  fell  on  a  curious  object  which 
stood  on  the  table  beside  'Arry,  and 
which  had  not  been  there  before. 

"  Where  did  you  get  that?"  he  de- 
manded excitedly. 

"  The  governor  said  I  could  have  it 
from  the  store.  Some  sailor  brought 
it  in  among  a  lot  of  rubbish.  I  thought 
it  might  interest  you,  Ramjai.  It 
comes  from  India." 

'*  Do  you  know  what  it  is?"  said 
Ramjai. 

"No— what?" 

*'  If  I  were  what  once  I  was,  I  should 
say  it  was  a  miracle.  In  any  case  it 
is  a  coincidence." 

He  stood  contemplating  the  object — 
a  carved  figure  of  a  woman  riding  on  a 
bull;  on  her  right  arm  a  serpent  for  a 
bracelet;  on  her  forehead  a  half-moon. 

"It  is  the  great  goddess  Durga," 
said  Ramjai  slowly,  almost  reverently. 
"  Devi,  the  seed  of  the  Universe,  who 
liberates  from  ills;  Devi  the  Bestower 
of  Blessings;  it  is  Kali  Kumari,  the 
Virgin     mountain-born,     Defeatcr    of 


362 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


Demons.  Here  stand  I,  Ramjai  De- 
vimahatmya,  who  was  her  priest, 
whose  fathers  tended  her  shrine  in 
Delhi  generation  after  generation. 
Harry,  at  this  very  hour,  women  are 
thronging  with  gifts  and  cakes  to  her 
temple  stairs,  to  pray  for  a  fortunate 
marriage  and  deliverance  from  woe. 
Is  it  not  strange?" 

But  'Arry,  his  personal  trouble  re- 
curring to  his  mind,  only  said:  "  I 
can't  think  about  it,  Ramjai.  I'm  too 
wretched." 

"  But  see  here,"  said  Ramjai  again, 
"This  is  more  to  your  case,  and  this 
is  why  it  is  so  strange  that  you  should 
have  brought  home  Durga  Devi  to- 
night." 

He  laid  before  'Arry  an  open  letter, 
written  in  curious,  wavy  characters 
such  as  the  young  man  had  never  seen 
before. 

"That  is  from  my  father.  Hear 
what  he  says."  Ramjai  read,  translat- 
ing as  he  went: 

"To  my  son  Ramjai  Devimahatmya, 
in  London  over  the  black  water,  good 
greeting!  Come  back,  O  my  son,  and 
blessing  for  curses  shalt  thou  have, 
for  I  am  old  and  have  not  long  to  live 
beneath  the  sun.  Also  I  too  serve  no 
longer  before  the  knees  of  Kali,  yet 
have  I,  one  of  the  twice-born,  not 
broken  my  caste,  nor  like  thee  become 
a  christian.  Nevertheless  know  I  that 
Truth  is  like  a  precious  gem  that  hath 
been  well  cut,  and  one  man  seeth  the 
light  flash  from  the  one  face  of  her, 
and  another  from  another.  So  return, 
O  Ramjai,  ere  I  die.  For  thy  return  I 
send  money,  and  I  will  await  thee  here 
in  Calcutta,  where  in  my  house  are  also 
thy  wife  and  thy  son." 

The  Hindu  ceased  reading,  and  put 
his  hand  on  'Arry's  shoulder. 

"Come  with  me,  my  English  friend," 
he  said. 

'Arry  sprang  to  his  feet.  "To  Cal- 
cutta— with  you,  Ramjai!" 

"  And  with  your  mem  that  is  to  be," 
said  Ramjai  smiling. 

"  But  what  shall  I  do,  when  I  get 
there?"  'Arry  objected. 

"  I  have  studied,"  said  Ramjai. 
"  My  father  is  a  rich  man  and  a  wise. 


and  highly  thought  of  even  among 
your  people.  I  shall  practise  at  the 
Bar,  and  you,  Harry,  shall  keep  my 
books.  Then  you  can  marry  Miss 
Lily,  and  she  can  leave  her  teaching. 
What  do  you  say?" 

So  it  came  to  pass  that  in  the  even- 
ing of  a  sullen  monsoon  day,  'Arry  and 
his  well-beloved,  and  Ramjai  Devima- 
hatmya the  twice-born,  stood  together 
on  the  deck  of  a  steamer  that  made 
her  way  up  the  dark,  rushing  Hooghly 
towards  the  far-flung  splendour  of  a 
Calcutta  sunset.  Ere  yet  the  steamer 
came  to  her  moorings,  the  crimson 
faded  from  the  clouds  piled  over  Hast- 
ings, and  the  beauty  of  evening  gave 
place  to  the  white  enchantment  of  the 
Indian  moonlight,  turning  to  ruby  red 
the  stucco  of  the  city,  to  pearl  the 
plaster,  and  pouring  a  flood  of  silver 
upon  the  dark  waters. 

To  those  who  know  her,  the  second 
city  in  the  Empire  tells  with  every  stone 
her  story  of  blood  and  tears,  of  brav- 
ery and  endurance.  There  the  past 
and  the  present  sit  hand  in  hand,  spell- 
ing out  the  name  of  the  Future.  Here 
behold  the  palaces  of  Chowringhi,  flash- 
ing brightly  in  the  Indian  night;  there, 
scarce  five  minutes'  walk  away,  murky 
lamps  glimmer  ghostily  in  a  labyrinth 
of  dark  lanes  and  ill-kept  marts.  With- 
in earshot  of  the  Viceroy's  banquet 
hall,  the  jackals  in  the  unpaved  alleys 
make  night  hideous  with  their  howls. 
If  it  is  day  time,  here  in  the  eye  of  the 
sun,  Calcutta  flaunts  without  shame 
her  squalor;  yet  on  the  hottest  day  the 
eye  rests  peacefully  on  her  tree-fringed 
tanks,  and  yonder,  between  the  palaces 
and  the  river,  lies  the  vast  Maidan,  her 
jewel  of  beauty,  with  its  splendid  park- 
like expanse  of  emerald  green,  dotted 
with  stately  trees,  and  here  and  there 
ablaze  with  scarlet  splendour  of  tropic 
blooms. 

As  the  shades  and  mystery  of  night 
wrapped  her  about,  into  that  city  which 
stretches  out  her  hand  to  the  future, 
Ramjai  Devimahatmya  brought  to  a 
new  life  in  a  new  land,  the  two  friends 
whom  he  had  found  in  the  greater  city 
"  over  the  black  water." 


LOVE  OR  DUTY? 


A     STORY     OF     RAILWAY     LIFE 


By  E.  S.    KIRKPATRICK 


ABY  took  another  bad  turn 
this  morning.  We  fear  the 
worst." 

Dick  Harding  sat  in  the 
cab  of  No.  lo  and  read 
once  again  the  message  that  had  just 
been  handed  him  as  he  impatiently- 
awaited  the  signal  to  pull  out  on  his 
long  run  for  home. 

It  was  drawing  near  the  close  of  a 
cold  winter's  day.  A  heavy  train  of 
coaches  was  behind  his  throbbing, 
monster  engine,  and  a  "bad  rail"  in 
front.  Two  hundred  miles  of  a  run 
was  ahead  of  him  before  home  could  be 
reached;  and  as  he  glanced  once  again 
at  his  watch  and  saw  that  he  was  now 
an  hour  late,  his  fireman,  a  mere  boy 
of  twenty  years,  who  had  been  watch- 
ing for  the  conductor's  signal,  jumped 
from  his  seat  and  shouted  :  "All  right, 
Dick;  let  her  go.'" 

"  Billy,"  called  Dick,  as  he  opened 
the  throttle  and  handed  his  fireman  the 
message,  "read  that." 

Billy  read  the  brief  message  at  a 
glance,  and  then  looked  into  the  troub- 
led face  of  the  engineer,  whom  he  loved 
as  a  father.  He  hardly  knew  what 
reply  he  could  make,  for  he  was  aware 
that  Dick's  children  were  dearer  to  him 
than  life,  and  his  heart  ached  in  sym- 
pathy with  the  father  who  was  so  eager 
to  be  home. 

Dick  leaned  over  to  Billy  and,  above 
the  noise  of  the  now  swiftly  moving 
train,  shouted  :  "  My  boy,  she's  going 
to  steam  hard  to-night,  and  we've  got  a 
bad  rail;  but,  just  the  same,  we're  going 
to  make  up  that  hour !  Hold  yoursteam, 
my  boy  !     Do  you  understand  ?  " 

Billy's  only  reply  was  a  nod  as  he 
sprang  to  his  post,  and  the  impatient 
engineer  opened  the  throttle  wider  and 
glanced  mechanically  at  his  watch  as 
he  settled  back  in  his  seat  to  keep  his 
eye  on  the  track  in  front. 

Dick's    baby,    who    was  really  four 

363 


years  old,  but  her  father's  baby  for  all 
that,  had  been  very  ill.  For  three 
weeks  he  had  sat  by  her  bedside  until 
the  physician  had  said  she  was  out  of 
danger.  Then,  with  the  thought  of 
heavy  doctors'  bills  to  pay,  and  a  large 
family  to  provide  for,  though  worn  out 
with  worry  and  loss  of  sleep,  he  had 
reported  for  duty  the  day  before  and 
was  now  on  his  return  run  with  the 
Limited  Express. 

Into  the  gathering  darkness  of  the 
cold  December  night  swept  the  Limited 
at  some  fifty  miles  an  hour;  and  al- 
though Dick's  trained  ear  and  sharp 
eye,  in  the  din  and  clatter,  the  swaying 
and  shaking  of  that  monster  thing  of 
power,  were  ever  on  the  alert,  his  mind 
was  far  away  in  his  cottage  by  the 
road  over  which  he  passed  every  day, 
and  the  picture  he  saw  was  that  of  an 
anxious  and  worn-out  mother  bending 
over  the  bedside  of  a  dying  child  who 
was  moaning  for  her  papa.  Then  he 
glanced  once  again  at  his  watch,  at 
the  steam  gauge  and  water  gauge, 
moaned  aloud  in  his  affliction  and 
opened  the  throttle  wider. 

Those  who  tuck  themselves  away  to 
sleep  in  the  softly  swayiog  berths  of 
the  luxurious  Pullmans,  or  recline  at 
ease  in  the  inviting  chairs  of  the  bril- 
liantly lighted  parlour  cars  that  glide 
along  as  smoothly  as  a  boat  on  a  sum- 
mer's sea;  who  dreamily  smoke  frag- 
rant cigars  and  laugh  and  chat  in  the 
cozy  smoking  rooms,  or  partake  at 
their  leisure  of  a  bounteous  repast  in 
the  dining  car  with  courteous  waiters 
and  porters  to  attend  at  every  call, 
little  appreciate  in  what  an  inferno  of 
noise  and  racking  and  clanging  and 
clatter  the  grimy  men  in  the  cab  in 
front  live.  Let  the  uninitiated  be 
transferred  from  the  former  to  the  lat- 
ter and  it  would  seem  to  them  as 
though  each  moment  they  were  trav- 
elling to  perdition. 


3^4 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


But  the  cab  was  the  home  of  Dick 
Harding,  and  to  his  trained  ear  its 
noise  was  more  musical  than  a  mighty 
symphony.  He  asked  for  no  greater 
blessing  in  life  than  to  feel  his  engine 
respond  to  his  slightest  touch,  and 
rushing  through  the  darkness  and 
sunshine  in  summer  and  winter  to 
dream  of  the  loved  ones  in  his  cottage 
by  the  road. 

*'  Well  done,  my  boy!"  said  Dick  as 
he  pulled  up  for  his  first  stop,  after  a 
run  of  fifty  miles.  "You  have  held 
your  steam  well,  and  we  have  made  up 
fifteen  minutes  now;  but  we  are  going 
to  do  better  than  that  in  the  next  run, 
unless  they  hold  us  somewhere  for  that 
Emigrant  Special.  We'll  probably  get 
crossing  orders  for  her  at  Wakefield 
and  we  are  going  to  be  there  in  forty 
minutes." 

"All  right,  Dick,  drive  away  and  I 
guess  I  can  hold  her  down  for  the  rest 
of  the  run,  even  though  she  does  steam 
hard,"  said  Billy. 

In  just  forty  minutes  Dick  made  the 
run  of  thirty-eight  miles  to  Wakefield 
and  pulled  up  at  the  tank  for  water. 
With  torch  in  one  hand  and  an  oil-can 
in  the  other  he  waded  through  the 
snow  around  his  engine  to  oil  up  while 
Billy  took  water.  The  conductor 
came  forward  and  gave  Dick  his  copy 
of  the  crossing  orders. 

At  Easton,  fifteen  miles  farther  on, 
they  crossed  a  heavy  emigrant  train, 
with  two  engines,  and  soon  after  were 
off  on  the  next  run  of  forty-five  miles 
to  Woodbury. 

As  Dick  pulled  up  at  the  end  of  this 
run  he  saw  the  signal  turned  for  orders 
that  were  awaiting  him  here,  and 
wondered  what  they  would  be.  Surely 
it  would  not  be  anything  that  would 
mean  delay  to  them  ;  and,  too  im- 
patient to  wait  until  they  were  brought 
to  him,  he  jumped  from  the  cab  and 
ran  back  to  meet  the  conductor  who 
was  reading  them  by  the  light  from 
his  lantern  as  he  walked  towards  him. 

"Bad  news,  Dick,"  said  the  con- 
ductor as  he  came  up  to  him.  "Here's 
your  copy." 

Dick  took  the  paper  and  read:  "Emi- 
grant special   jumped  the    track    two 


miles  west  of  Easton  and  heavy  loss 
of  life  is  reported.  Train  No.  lo  will 
complete  run  regardless  of  time,  and 
engine  and  crew  will  double  back  with 
wrecking  train  and  physicians." 

"Yes,  bad  news,"  said  Dick  when 
he  had  finished  reading  the  message. 
"  Bad  news  to  me  in  more  ways  than 
one  if  I  have  to  go  back  on  that  special 
to-night."  "No.  lo  will  complete 
run  regardless  of  time"  he  read  again. 
"  I  guess  we  have  been  doing  that 
anyway,  and  God  forgive  me  if  the 
thought  of  my  sick  babe  has  not  urged 
me  on  more  than  the  wreck  of  an  emi- 
grant train  possibly  can." 

Dick  turned  away  and  climbed 
wearily  into  his  cab.  Mechanically  he 
opened  the  throttle  and  muttered  once 
again,  "  Complete  run  regardless  of 
time."  "Oh  well,"  he  thought,"! 
can  do  that  anyway,  but  why  do  I  care 
so  little  now  whether  I  make  time  or 
not?  I  want  to  do  my  duty,  God  knows, 
but  where  does  duty  lie  to-night? 
What  do  I  care  for  the  loss  of  a  lot  of 
emigrants  anyway  ?  Is  not  my  first 
duty  to  my  wife  and  sick  child?  I  will 
not  go  back,  even  though  I  never  pull 
another  train  again!  Surely  they  can 
get  some  one  to  go  in  my  place.  I 
guess,  though,  that  both  spare  crews 
are  out  on  that  double-header,  and 
perhaps  now  are  buried  under  the 
wreck.  Is  it  possible  that  I  must  go 
back?  Some  one  must  go;  that's 
certain." 

Thus  mused  Dick,  as  faster  and 
faster  rushed  the  Limited  Express, 
until  miles  and  minutes  joined  in  a  race 
as  Dick  left  them  behind.  He  was, 
himself,  surprised  to  make  such  speed 
on  such  a  night.  "  What  is  it  all  for 
anyway  ?  We  are  making  better  time 
than  we  did  before  I  got  that  message. 
Can  anything  move  me  to  greater 
effort  than  love  for  my  child  ?  Seems 
to  me  it  must  be  duty  that  is  now 
urging  me  on.  Can  duty  be  stronger 
than  love?" 

Dick's  home  lay  by  the  road  one 
mile  from  the  end  of  his  run.  He 
blew  a  greeting  at  the  crossing  every 
night  before  reaching  the  house,  and 
it  was  always  a  glad  greeting  that  he 


LOVE  OR  DUTY? 


365 


gave.  To-night  it  ended  in  a  long- 
mournful  wail  that  sounded  of  despair, 
but  no  face  appeared  in  the  doorway 
during  the  fleeting  glimpse  he  had  of 
it  as  his  train  thundered  by. 

Dick's  eldest  child,  a  girl  of  eleven 
years,  was  waiting  for  him  at  the 
station  as  he  finished  his  run  five 
minutes  ahead  of  time.  Climbing  into 
the  cab  she  threw  her  arms  around  her 
father's  neck  and  sobbed  out  her 
trouble  on  his  breast.  Baby  was  very 
low.  She  had  gone  for  the  doctor  in 
the  morning  but  he  was  away  from 
home.  Mamma  had  sent  her  back  this 
evening  for  him  or  any  other  doctor 
she  could  get  and  now  they  said  there 
had  been  a  terrible  accident  and  no 
doctor  could  go  with  her.  Would 
papa  hurry  home  with  her  as  quickly 
as  possible  ?  She  was  freezing  with 
the  cold  and  was  afraid  to  go  home 
alone. 

Dick  told  his  fireman  to  look  after 
the  engine,  and  with  his  child  in  his 
arms  jumped  from  the  cab.  A  brake- 
man  came  hurrying  forward  and  un- 
coupled the  engine,  and  Billy  pulled 
ahead  to  the  turntable.  Officials  were 
hurrying  about;  orders  were  being 
hastily  given;  and  doctors  and  nurses 
were  being  hurried  to  cars  that  were 
awaiting  them. 

The  Superintendent,  catching  sight 
of  Dick,  hastened  to  him  and  asked 
how  soon  he  would   be  ready  to  start. 

"Fifteen  minutes,"  said  Dick,  "will 
be  long  enough  to  turn  in,  and  to  take 
coal  and  water,  but,  for  heaven's  sake, 
have  you  no  other  man  you  can  send 
back  in  my  place  ?" 

"Why,  what's  the  matter,  Dick  ? 
Are  you  sick  ?" 

"  I  guess  I  am,"  said  Dick;  "but 
that  is  of  no  consequence.  I  have  a 
child  at  home  who  is  dying  and  we 
cannot  even  get  a  doctor  to  go  to  her. 
I  love  that  child  better  than  life.  I 
cannot  go.      My  duty  lies  at  home." 

"Dick,  my  friend,"  said  the  superin- 
tendent, "  no  one  would  ever  accuse 
you  of  not  doing  your  duty,  but  think 
carefully  where  it  lies  to-night  before 
you  decide.  Duty  and  love  sometimes 
lie    far    apart,   though    love    would  at 


times  strive  to  blind  us  to  duty's  call. 
Think  Dick:  Human  beings  by  the 
score  are  freezing  and  being  crushed 
to  death  under  an  awful  wreck.  Your 
old  comrades  in  those  two  engines  are 
among  the  number.  We  must  go  to 
them,  and  go  immediately,  and  you 
are  the  only  man  who  can  take  us. 
Heaven  knows  I  pity  you,  but  your  duty 
is  there." 

"  I  will  go,"  said  Dick;  and  with  a 
shudder  he  clasped  his  child  to  his 
breast  and  turned  away. 

"  My  child,  my  child,"  said  the 
father,  "  I  cannot  go  home  with  you 
to-night.  Tell  mamma  that  papa's 
heart  aches  for  her  and  his  precious 
baby,  and  that  he  would  fly  to  them  if 
he  could;  but  there  has  been  a  terrible 
accident  and  he  must  go  to  it.  Hurry 
home,  my  darling  child,  and  comfort 
mamma  all  you  can." 

Tears  fell  from  Dick's  eyes  as  he 
strove  to  put  his  child  gently  from  him, 
but  she  clung  to  him  in  terror. 

"  Oh,  papa!"  she  sobbed,  "  I  cannot 
go  home  alone.  I  am  afraid  of  the 
dark,  and  I  am  freezing  with  the  cold. 
Please  come  with  me." 

The  train  was  by  this  time  made  up. 
The  conductor  came  running  from  the 
station  and  waved  his  lantern  as  a 
signal  to  start.  Unable  to  release  the 
hold  his  child  had  around  his  neck, 
Dick  climbed  with  her  into  the  cab 
and  pulled  the  throttle  wide  open. 
Then,  as  the  light  train  shot  forward, 
he  told  her  once  again  hurriedly  of  the 
terrible  wreck  and  the  sufferings  of 
those  who  were  buried  beneath  it. 
Two  minutes  from  the  time  he  started 
he  shut  off  steam,  applied  the  emer- 
gency brakes,  and  as  the  train  came  to 
a  sudden  stop  sprang  with  his  child  to 
the  ground  in  front  of  her  home,  gave 
her  a  parting  kiss  and  blessing,  and 
almost  instantly  was  speeding  away 
again  into  the  night. 

A  physician,  who  had  been  standing 
on  the  platform  at  the  station  had 
overheard  all  the  conversation  that 
passed  between  Dick  and  the  superin- 
tendent, and  Dick  and  his  child.  To 
him  the  engineer's  self-sacrifice  was  a 
revelation,  and   he    hardly    thought  it 


366 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


possible  that  he  would  go.  When  he 
climbed  with  his  child  into  the  cab  he 
hardly  knew  what  it  meant,  for  he 
was  not  aware  that  the  train  would 
pass  Dick's  door.  How  diflFerent,  he 
thought,  was  his  position  to  -  night 
from  that  of  the  engineer's.  To  him 
this  night's  work  meant  nothing  more 
than  the  loss  of  sleep  in  return  for 
plenty  of  excitement  and  a  good  sub- 
stantial fee  from  a  wealthy  corporation. 
To  the  engineer  it  meant  a  broken  heart 
in  return  for  the  performance  of  duty. 

"  I  wonder  where  my  duty  is  to- 
night ?"  he  thought,  as  he  stepped  on 
the  platform  of  the  car  when  the  train 
started.  "Cold  logic  would  argue 
that  it  lies  with  those  who  employed 
me  at  the  scene  of  the  wreck,  but  to 
this  sentiment  might  take  exception. 
Which  is  the  stronger,  anyway,  senti- 
ment, or  logic  backed  up  by  a  magnifi- 
cent fee?  ,  I  am  glad  the  train  started 
when  it  did,  for  that  settles  the  ques- 
tion in  this  case.  By  Jove!  I  have  my 
doubts;  but  still  I  need  the  money." 

The  physician  was  awakened  from 
his  reverie  by  being  pitched  against  the 
door  of  the  car  when  the  brakes  were 
applied,  and  he  wondered  if  his  dream 
had  been  so  long  that  they  were 
already  at  the  scene  of  the  wreck. 
Catching  up  his  satchel,  he  walked 
down  the  three  steps  of  the  car  to  see 
what  it  meant,  and  just  then  the  en- 
gineer jumped  from  the  cab  with  his 
child  in  his  arms. 

As  Dick  looked  back  after  the  train 
had  started,  he  thought  he  saw  a  man 
step  from  the  train  and  take  his  child 
by  the  hand;  but,  of  course,  it  was 
only  imagination. 

The  superintendent  was  right  when 
he  said  it  was  a  bad  wreck.  It  was  a 
gruesome  sight  to  see  scores  of  dead 
bodies  lying  in  the  blood-stained 
snow,  where  they  had  been  placed  by 
the  survivors.  Two  mighty  engines 
lay  on  their  sides,  broken  and  twisted, 
while  high  around  them  were  piled  like 
kindling  wood  what  a  few  hours  be- 
fore had  been  passenger  coaches. 
From  out  the  darkness  and  the  chaos 
came    cries   for   help  from  those  who 


were  yet  imprisoned  in  the  wreck; 
while  with  feverish  haste  the  wrecking 
crew  worked  to  set  them  free  and  bore 
those  who  were  yet  alive  to  the  cars, 
where  physicians  and  nurses  strove 
by  every  means  in  their  power  to 
lighten  their  sufferings.  But  little 
attention  was  as  yet  paid  to  the  dead. 
Those  in  whom  was  yet  a  spark  of  life, 
after  being  crushed  and  frozen,  re- 
quired all  the  attention  that  skill  could 
bestow. 

Dick's  first  thought  was  for  his 
brothers  of  the  cab,  but  they  were 
beyond  mortal  help.  When  at  last 
they  were  removed  from  beneath  the 
mass  of  wreckage  that  covered  them, 
he  assisted  in  tenderly  carrying  them 
to  the  car  reserved  for  the  dead,  while 
his  fireman  tugged  with  his  engine  in 
getting  the  track  clear. 

At  last  it  was  all  over.  Daylight 
was  dawning,  and  once  again  Dick 
sped  for  home  "  regardless  of  time." 
Worn  out  and  sick  at  heart,  he  now 
turned  his  thoughts  away  from  the 
grim  burden  that  he  bore,  and  contem- 
plated what  the  future  would  mean  to 
him  without  his  baby.  The  whistle  he 
sounded  when  he  came  in  sight  of 
home  expressed  his  thoughts  more 
eloquently  than  words. 

But  who  can  that  be  who  is  stand- 
ing on  his  doorstep?  Oh,  yes,  it  is 
some  friend  to  signal  to  him  that  all  is 
over.  Dick  closed  the  throttle,  rubbed 
his  swollen  eyes,  and  looked  again  as 
he  went  slowly  by.  Why,  that  is  his 
wife,  and  she  is  smiling  and  throwing 
kisses  to  him!  And  who  is  that  strange 
gentleman  standing  in  the  doorway? 
What  do  the  children  mean  by  run- 
ning out  of  the  house  and  shouting  to 
him  in  glee? 

Now  they  are  out  of  sight  and,  of 
course,  it  was  all  an  hallucination,  but 
he  was  thankful  that  even  such  could 
grant  him  a  moment's  respite. 

"  Dick,"  said  the  superintendent,  as 
he  came  forward  to  speak  to  him  after 
the  train  stopped  at  the  station,  "I  see 
that  you  left  your  baby  in  good  hands 
last  night.  But  how  did  Dr.  Travers 
stay  behind  when  we  had  him  engaged 
to  go  with  us?" 


LOVE  OR  DUTY? 


367 


"  Dr.  Travers!"  said  Dick.  "Who 
is  he  and  where  did  he  stay?" 

•'Did  you  not  see  him?"  said  the 
superintendent.  "  He  was  standing 
on  your  doorstep  as  we  came  by.  He 
is  one  of  the  smartest  physicians  in 
the  city." 

Dick  looked  incredulous  for  a  mo- 
ment, but  it  finally  dawned  on  him  that 
it  was  true,  and  then  his  racked  nerves 
could  bear  up  no  longer  and  he  broke 
down  completely. 

The  superintendent  himself  was  feel- 
ing somewhat  used  up  after  his  night's 
experience,  but  he  clasped  Dick  by  the 
hand  and  asked  him  to  report  at  his 
office  with  the  physician  during  the 
day.  Then  Dick  pulled  himself  to- 
gether and  started  for  home. 

Dick's  homecoming  was  quite  dif- 
ferent from  what  he  had  expected.  He 
had  not  gone  more  than  half  way  when 
he  saw  his  eldest  child  running  to  meet 
him.  With  breathless  haste  she  told 
him  of  the  kind  man  who  had  taken 
her  by  the  hand  when  she  got  off  the 
engine  and  led  her  home,  and  then  had 
watched  by  the  baby's  bedside  all  night 
until  he  said  she  was  entirely  out  of 
danger. 

A  smiling  wife  greeted  him  at  the 
door,  and  happy  children  clamoured 
for  a  kiss.  His  baby  smiled  when  he 
took  her  gently  up,  and  murmured 
"  daddie  "  as  she  sank  into  a  peaceful 
sleep  in  his  arms. 

Dr.  Travers  looked  on  the  scene 
from  an  adjoining  room.  He  was  glad 
that  sentiment  had  triumphed  over 
logic,  and  what  to  him  was  the  loss  of 
a  few  dollars  when  weighed  in  the  bal- 
ance with  such  a  scene  as  he  beheld  ? 
He  was  now  sure  that   sentiment  and 


duty  in  his  case  had  worked  hand  in 
hand. 

Over  a  good  warm  dinner,  in  which 
the  physician  joined,  Dick  related  his 
experiences  of  the  night,  and  when  at 
last  Dr.  Travers  departed,  they  ar- 
ranged to  meet  at  the  superintendent's 
office  at  four  o'clock.  In  the  mean- 
time Dick  lay  down  for  a  much  needed 
sleep. 

When,  at  four  o'clock,  they  were 
alone  with  the  superintendent  in  his 
private  office,  he  greeted  them  both 
with  a  warm  clasp  of  the  hand. 

"  Dr.  Travers,"  said  he,  "  you  were 
not  where  we  expected  you  would  be 
last  night,  but  you  have  done  your 
duty  nevertheless,  and  on  behalf  of  the 
company  I  wish  to  thank  you.  I  want 
you  to  make  out  your  bill  and  call  it: 
'  For  professional  services  in  connec- 
tion with  train  wreck.'  Don't  be 
afraid  of  making  it  for  a  g(»od  sum. 
The  company  will  be  glad  to  pay,  and 
I  will  O.K.  it  for  any  amount." 

"To  you,  friend  Dick,  I  hardly 
know  what  to  say.  The  consciousness 
of  duty  well  done  is  the  greatest  reward 
that  a  man  can  have.  I  would  like  to 
grant  you  a  month's  leave  of  absence 
and  a  good  sum  to  enjoy  it  with,  but 
we  cannot  spare  you  at  present.  Per- 
haps in  a  short  time  we  can  do  so, 
and  in  the  meantime  please  accept  this 
cheque  for  one  hundred  dollars  as  a 
slight  ackno'ivledgment  of  our  grati- 
tude. The  company  will  never  forget 
the  self-sacrifice  you  showed  last  night, 
and  should  you  ever  grow  tired  of  your 
life  in  the  cab  and  wish  for  what  might 
be  considered,  by  some,  a  higher  posi- 
tion, rest  assured  it  will  be  forth- 
coming." 


A  BELATED  VALENTINE 


By    VIRNA    SHEARD 


Oh  little  pink  and  white  god  of  love, 
With  your  tender,  smiling-  mouth, 

And  eyes  as  blue  as  the  blue  above 
Afar  in  the  sunny  south; 

No  army  e'er  laid  so  many  low, 
Or  wounded  so  many  hearts — 

No  mighty  gunner  e'er  wrought  such  woe 
As  you,  with  your  feathered  darts. 

LD  Michael  Denny  moved 
softly  about,  setting-  a 
chair  straight  here,  touch- 
ing the  curtains  there, 
turning  a  lampwick  up  a 
trifle  higher — for  the  day  had  already 
darkened — to  perfect  the  lighting  of  a 
room  which  was  a  joy  to  the  eye,  so 
harmonised  were  the  half-tones  in  the 
colour  scheme  of  it.  A  man's  room 
it  was  withal,  and  now  permeated  by 
the  scent  of  fresh  tobacco.  Most  of 
the  journals  that  lay  about  held  the 
latest  sporting  news.  A  gun-case 
hung  under  a  whip-rack.  The  most 
conspicuous  thing  within  the  four  walls 
was  a  moose  head  with  amazing 
antlers,  and  this  rested  unhung  against 
the  wainscoting.  Old  Denny  put  the 
place  in  ship-shape  order,  and  inci- 
dentally watched  his  master. 

John  Trevor  sat  at  his  desk,  a  blue 
cheque  book  open  before,  him. 

"What's  the  date,  Denny?"  he 
asked,  without  looking  up,  dipping  his 
pen  in  the  ink. 

'*  What's  the  date  ?"  he  said  again, 
as  there  was  no  reply. 

The  serving-man  gave  a  little  cough 
— there  came  a  queer,  hesitating,  half- 
nervous  expression  in  his  keen,  Irish- 
blue  eyes.  His  humorous  mouth  went 
into  a  straight,  unsmiling  line. 

"  It  does  be  Dan  Cupid's  day,  sur," 
he  answered.  "  Sure  it's  got  over  to 
the  fourteenth  of  February  agin." 

The  drop  of  ink  gathered  on  Trev- 
or's pen  slipped  heavily  down  upon 
the  blotter.  The  man  sat  absolutely 
still  and  stared  across  at  a  window 
opposite  his  desk  with  set,  impene- 
trable face.     He  had  the  look  of  one 

368 


who  s«es  nothing,  unless  it  be  some 
vision  of  the  mind. 

Then  he  rose  slowly  and,  pushing 
the  blue  book  back,  closed  the  desk. 

"  I  dine  at  the  Club  to-night, 
Denny,  so  bring  me  a  heavy  top-coat. 
It  must  have  turned  colder,  judging 
by  the  temperature  in  this  room. 
Don't  it  seem  cold  to  you  ?" 

"It  does  not,  sur,"  answered  the 
man,  holding  the  great-coat  up  and 
furtively  watching  Trevor's  face.  ' '  No, 
indade,  sur,  that  it  don't.  Arra!  but 
we're  the  warrum-blooded  lot,  the 
whole  av  us  Dennys.  Not  but  what 
the  weather  is  all  one  might  expect  for 
Canady — an'  it  mid  February.  Ah! 
the  burds  do  be  choosin'  their  sweet- 
hearts away  beyant  there  in  Oirland, 
Master  Jack,  do  ye  moind!  An'  the 
gerrls,"  settling  the  coat  right  over 
Trevor's  wide  shoulders,  **an'  the 
gerrls  will  be  kaping  a  wide  eye  fur 
the  postman.  It's  a  cheery  day,  St. 
Valentine's,  when  ye're  the  other  side 
o'  twenty." 

"St.  Valentine!  how  you  harp  on 
one  string,"  said  Trevor  half  irri- 
tably. "  Well,  we're  on  the  wrong 
side  of  forty,  so  it  has  small  cheer  for 
us." 

"Ah,  yer  honour!  I  do  be  on  the 
wrong  side  o'  fifty,"  he  answered, 
closing  the  door  gently  after  his  mas- 
ter. Then  he  stood  stock-still  in  the 
quiet  room,  thinking. 

"  Sure  it's  the  blue  chill  he  has  at 
the  heart  av  him  that  makes  him  think 
it  grows  colder.  Don't  I  know  the 
look  that  always  comes  to  him  at  St. 
Valentine's  Day?  Bad  luck  to  me  fur 
turning  the  name  at  him.  It's  come 
round  fourteen  times  since  that  gay 
winter  in  Dublin,  when  he  waited  the 
whole  long  day  in  his  room  in  the  ould 
Tower  Hotel  for  the  message  that 
hadn't  the  grace  to  come. 

"  Holy  Saint  Patrick!  I  moind  as  't 
was  yesterday  the  way  he  walked  up 
and  down,  up  and  down,  the  nerves  av 


A  BELATED  VALENTINE 


369 


him  all  braced  wid  listenin'  for  the 
knock  which  wasn't  knocked.  Six 
blessed  times  did  he  send  me  to  the 
office  below  to  see  if  word  or  sign  was 
waitin'  him — an'  his  face  white  as  the 
dead  when  I  come  up  widout  it,"  said 
the  man  half  aloud. 

"  What  it  was  he  waited  fur  I  dunno, 
but  I  do  be  thinking  it  was  some  quare 
thing.  Little  he  knew  the  way  I  was 
watchin'  him.  Sure  what  else  do  I 
iver  be  doin'  save  watchin'  him  iver 
since  the  day  long  back  whin  he  went 
down  into  the  deep  wather  o'  the  ould 
mill  pond  fur  me — me  a  tall,  lanky 
gassoon,  an'  him  a  bit  of  a  chap  knee- 
high. 

"  The  devil  take  the  ould  Saint's 
Day  and  whativer  it  was  that  proved 
the  undoin'  av  him,  for  it's  took  the 
gilt  edge  off  his  life  an'  druv  him  on  a 
Tam  O'Shanter  ride  from  pillar  to  post 
iver  since.  It's  '  Denny,  see  to  the 
packin',  we're  off"  to  London  to-mor- 
row.' Then  it's  '  T'row  a  few  things  to- 
gether, ould  chap,  we'll  have  a  thry  at 
Canady.'  Me  heart's  broke  wid  his 
wanderings,  an'  he  always  harks  back 
worse  to  the  trouble,  whativer  it  was, 
when  this  date  comes  to  his  moind." 
So  he  went  about  soliloquising  and 
shaking  his  old  grey  head. 

Trevor  swung  along  at  a  rapid  pace 
towards  his  club.  A  fashionable  club 
it  was,  patronised  by  the  "  best  men," 
so-called,  of  Montreal  society.  He 
had  few  friends  amongst  them,  but 
many  acquaintances,  and  was  known 
as  one  of  the  brilliant  contributors  of 
the  day  to  the  journals — a  traveller,  a 
capital  shot,  a  keen  sportsman,  who, 
unlike  the  fraternity,  was  a  silent  man, 
apparently  without  personal  interest  in 
humanity  either  singly  or  collectively. 

On  this  winter  afternoon,  nearing 
the  hour  of  six,  the  city  was  aglitter 
with  many  lights.  The  clear  air  was 
still  and  cold.  Sleigh  bells  rang  their 
fairy  music  everywhere,  a  silver  chim- 
ing that  blended  like  a  sweet  accom- 
paniment with  other  sounds  of  the 
street.  Trevor  heard  unconsciously, 
took  the  right  road  instinctively.  The 
look  that  had  settled  over  his  face 
when  his   man   told  him  the  date,  was 


still  there.  He  turned  into  the  club 
and  towards  the  reading-room. 

"It  is  too  early  to  dine,"  he 
thought.  There  might  be  some  news 
from  the  Transvaal  since  morn- 
ing. He  and  Denny  would  be  taking 
that  road  next,  perhaps — he  had  a 
chance  to  go.  Army  men  were  in  luck 
these  days — in  rare  good  luck. 

"  For  how  can  man  die  better 

Than  facing-  fearful  odds, 
For  the  ashes  of  his  fathers. 

For  the  temples  of  his  Gods?" 

The  old  verse  that  is  like  a  battle- 
cry  came  to  his  mind,  and  set  itself  to 
the  tramping  of  feet  along  the  street 
below  the  window  near  which  he  sat. 
li  kept  time  with  the  beating  of  his 
heart. 

"  For  how  can  man  die  better  ?" 

"Ah!  the  fascination  of  war  takes  a 
strange  hold  on  men,"  he  thought; 
"  the  singing  of  the  bullets  draw  them. 
Fear  goes:  and  a  grand  recklessness,  a 
God-given  courage,  takes  its  place." 
"  For  how  can  man  die  better?" 

' '  Verily,  how  ?"  That  is  the  question. 
And  life,  what  of  it?  Is  it  so  sweet 
one  would  desire  to  hold  it  to  the 
utmost  limit  ?  Why  struggle  to  keep 
a  thing  long  since  to  him  grown  deadly 
dull  and  monotonous?  Oh!  to  march 
with  them,  those  valiant  hearts  and 
true,  on  and  on  across  the  grey-red 
earth  of  the  veldt,  with  souls  set 
ready  for  whatever  came. 

The  fever  of  restlessness  was  strong 
upon  him.  Denny  would  be  packing 
those  worn  leather  traps  to-morrow. 
So  he  was  thinking  when  somebody 
touched  him  on  the  shoulder,  and  a 
voice  he  had  not  heard  for  years  came 
cheerily  to  him. 

"Jack!  Jack  Trevor!  Now  the 
fates  are  kind.  Who  would  have  ex- 
pected to  run  across  you  here?" 

Trevor  smiled  and  grasped  the  man's 
hand. 

"  Really,  Dudley,  I  am  glad  to  see 
you!  I  thought  you  were  in  the 
Mounted  Police  in  the  far  North-west. 
As  for  me,  I've  made  Montreal  head- 
quarters for  the  past  year,  but  have 
about  determined  to  tramp  again,  for 


370 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


there's  a  place  awaiting-  me  down  in 
South  Africa.  They  want  me  to  re- 
lieve a  war  correspondent  knocked 
out  by  fever.      I  must  decide  to-nig^ht." 

"  Well,  that's  a  chance  !  I  am  only 
down  on  furlough,  worse  luck — for, 
like  the  rest  of  our  men,  I'm  fairly 
spoiling  for  the  fight.  A  friend  of 
mine  was  to  meet  me  here,  an  awfully 
g-ood  fellow,  and,  by  the  same  token, 
with  a  name  almost  the  counterpart  of 
yours.  One  John  Trevorton,  he  is; 
and,  honestly,  he's  not  unlike  you  in 
looks  either,  Trevor.  Will  you  join 
us  at  dinner?" 

"Thanks,  yes,  I  would  like  to,  and 
here,  I  fancy,  comes  your  friend.  He 
is  like  me,  though  to  say  it  is  to  dis- 
tinctly flatter  one's  self." 

Dudley  introduced  the  two  men,  and 
they  soon  found  they  had  much  in 
common.  Both  were  mighty  hunters, 
and  the  subject  of  big  game  is  one  not 
lightly  handled  or  cast  aside. 

So  the  three  dined  together,  and 
John  Trevor,  having  of  late  had  many 
dinners  alone,  found  a  charm  he  had 
little  hoped  for  in  the  companionship. 

He  had  been  in  the  North  during 
the  recent  hunting  season,  and  men- 
tioned the  great  moose  head  which  he 
had  brought  home.  The  width  of  the 
antlers  was  unusual,  and  the  fellow, 
he  said,  was  a  leader  and  monarch 
amongst  his  kind. 

'*  I  have  never  shot  a  moose,"  an- 
swered Trevorton,  "but  have  the  head 
of  a  grizzly  from  the  Rockies  that  I 
would  like  to  show  you.  Will  you 
not  walk  home  with  me  after  dinner, 
both  of  you,  and  we  can  finish  the 
evening  there?" 

This  they  willingly  agreed  to,  and 
the  three  were  shortly  in  Trevorton's 
smoking"  room,  critically  examining 
the  immense  bear  head. 

"  It  is  a  splendid  specimen,"  said 
Dudley.  "  What  brutes  they  are!  A 
man  need  be  sure  of  his  rifle  when  he 
meets  one.  I  say,  Trevor,"  he  sud- 
denly exclaimed,  "Trevor!  What's  up? 
Are  you  ill?" 

John  Trevor  was  staring  ahead  ap- 
parently at  something  on  the  wall,  or 
through    and    beyond   it.       His  fresh- 


coloured  face  had  gone  white,  and 
the  hand  that  grasped  his  chair-back 
shook. 

"  Where  did  you  get  it?"  he  said, 
unsteadily,  turning  his  wide,  startled 
eyes  on  Trevorton.  "  Where  did  you 
get  it?" 

"What?  The  little  sketch  by  Du 
Maurier?  Oh,  I  knew  him  in  London; 
fortunate,  wasn't  I?" 

"  Not  that,"  Trevor  answered,  "not 
the  sketch — the  —  the  little  slipper 
hanging  beneath.  See!"  striding  over 
and  lifting  it  in  his  hand. 

"See!"  he  went  on  as  to  himself, 
"there  is  the  stain  of  the  wine  on  it  yet. 
The  very  same — the  very  same  in  truth. 
Blue  satin  with  a  star  buckle  of  bril- 
liants; only,"  looking  at  it  closely, 
"  the  stones  are  dimmer,  and  the  sil- 
ver setting  has  darkened."  Then  he 
turned  to  his  host. 

"  How  did  you  come  by  it?"  he  said 
again. 

The  two  men  looked  at  him  in  be- 
wilderment, the  intense  agitation  of 
his  manner  was  so  contrasted  with  the 
serene  self-possession  that  seemed  part 
of  him  before. 

Trevorton  gave  a  little  embarrassed 
laugh.  "Why,  my  dear  Mr.  Trevor," 
he  said,  "  I'll  be  delighted  to  tell  you 
what  I  know  about  the  airy,  fairy  thing, 
my  '  Cinderella  shoe,'  as  I  call  it.  It 
has  quite  _a  bit  of  history  too,  but 
really  I  fail  to  see  how  it  touches  you, 
for  it  came  to  me  by  such  a  freak  of 
chance  in  the  long  past — twelve — thir- 
teen— no,  positively  fourteen  years 
ago,  in  Ireland." 

John  Trevor  spoke  a  broken  word 
they  did  not  catch.  Then  "Go  on," 
he  said  abruptly. 

"  Yes,"  continued  his  host,  "I  hap- 
pened to  be  in  Dublin,  stopping  at  the 
Tower  Hotel  over  St.  Valentine's  Day." 

"  This  is  St.  Valentine's  Day  !"  put 
in  Dudley.  "Queer  thing,  eh?  Co- 
incidence you  know." 

Trevor  gave  an  impatient  turn. 

"  It  is  odd,"  said  the  other.  "Now 
for  the  story.  About  the  middle  of 
the  afternoon  I  started  from  the  hotel 
to  hunt  up  some  people  I  knew  in 
town,  and   as   I    went   down  the  steps 


A  BELATED   VALENTINE 


371 


was  met  by  a  man,  a  sort  of  flunkey, 
I  fancy,  for  he  had  innumerable  buttons 
on  his  queerly-cut  coat." 

"  *  Will  you  be  givin'  me  your  name, 
sur?'  he  said,  with  that  charming 
freedom  that  distinguishes  the  native 
born. 

'*  •  Trevorton,'  I  replied,  'John 
Davenport  Trevorton.  Do  you  think 
you  know  me  ?' 

"  'Arra  !  but  you're  the  man,'  he  an- 
swered positively,  '  an'  anny  way,  I 
could  have  marked  ye  from  the  de- 
scription. She  said  you  were  fine  and 
tall,  an*  ye're  all  av  it.  Whisper — I 
was  to  give  this  into  yer  own  hands. 
That's  all,  sur.' 

"  I  felt  decidedly  the  compliment  im- 
plied, and  took  the  small  parcel  with  a 
keen  sense  of  curiosity.  Before  I  had 
time  to  tender  him  the  usual,  the  man 
was  gone." 

"Well?"  said  Trevor,  huskily. 
"Well?" 

"Ah,  the  parcel,"  answered  the 
other.  "  I  took  it  up  to  my  room  and 
opened  it  at  once,  when  that  apparently 
impossible  bit  of  footwear  fell  out. 
No  word  or  line  intimated  who  it  was 
from.  By  Jove!  I  was  awfully  puzzled, 
and  a  trifle  elated.  The  Irish  are  a 
queer,  romantic  lot,  and  valentines  fly 
round  in  quantity,  they  tell  me,  on  the 
Saint's  Day.  So  I  just  concluded  that 
some  little  beauty  I  had  stared  at  over- 
long  in  a  window  or  on  the  street  that 
morning  had  sent  me  her  shoe,  thinking 
I  would  make  connections  between  it 
and  her.  But  'pon  my  word  I  was  at 
sea,  and  could  not  individualise  any 
one  of  them.  They  are  all  beauties  in 
Dublin,  you  know." 

For  answer  John  Trevor  walked 
across  to  where  the  slipper  hung>  un- 
fastened it  from  its  place  and  stood 
holding  it. 

The  others  looked  at  him  in  silence. 
He  did  not  appear  to  notice  or  think 
of  them,  but  waited,  holding  the  little 
shoe. 

Then  he  glanced  at  Trevorton — "  I 
beg  your  pardon.  You  must  think  it 
strange  my  taking  this,"  he  said,  "but 
it  is  mine,  you  see,  without  doubt. 
Mine.    It  was  given  to  you  by  mistake. " 


"  I  have  long  thought  so,"  returned 
Trevorton.  "  I  still  do.  But  that  is 
not  all.  Listen.  I  put  the  slipper 
away  with  my  traps,  as  I  was  sailing 
for  home  next  day.  On  board  ship, 
on  the  way  across,  I  overheard  some 
men  talking;  they  were  making  no 
secret  of  their  conversation,  and  it  was 
all  of  the  great  Dublin  ball  that  had 
been  held  on  St.  Valentine's  eve. 
They  went  on  to  relate  how  some 
famous  beauty  had  lost  a  slipper, 
which  being  found  by  one  Sir  Thomas 
O'Malley,  a  vastly  rich,  and,  accord- 
ing to  them,  insufferably  dissipated  old 
bachelor,  was  held  up  by  him  for  admi- 
ration before  the  gentlemen  gathered 
in  the  supper  room  during  a  dance. 
They  said  that  he  had  sworn  openly 
he  would  marry  the  fair  one  whose 
foot  it  would  fit — after  the  fashion  set 
by  the  Prince  of  old — and  that  the 
ancient  gallant  had  wound  up  by  fill- 
ing the  dainty  flagon  full  of  wine  and 
quaffing  the  sparkling  liquor  at  one 
draught.  At  this  point  I  became 
thrillingly  interested. 

"  '  Pardon  me,'  I  remarked  tooneot 
the  young  Irishmen,  'but  can  you 
remember  if  the  slipper  was  of  blue, 
with  a  star  buckle  of  brilliants  ?' 

"  '  Why,  were  you  there  ?'  he  cried. 
'Then  you  saw  the  tragedy,  did  you  ?' 

"•Tragedy?  What  tragedy  ?  No, 
indeed.  I  was  not  at  the  ball,  but 
chanced  to  overhear  your  interesting 
bit  of  gossip,  and — ' 

"They looked  at  me  incredulously. 

"  •  It's  jolly  odd  you  should  have 
seen  the  slipper,'  said  the  other,  'and 
not  been  at  the  ball.  Come,  now,  no 
nonsense.  You  saw  old  O'Malley  go 
off— how  shall  I  put  it  ?  leave  for  parts 
unknown — answer  his  call  ?  Horribly 
impromptu,  wasn't  it?' 

"  ♦  I  am  in  the  dark,'  said  I,  'and 
quite  ignorant  of  Sir  Thomas  O'Mal- 
ley's  movements.' 

"  '  Ah  !  '  he  answered.  '  Really  ? 
Well,  they  were  decidedly  unpleasant 
to  witness.  It  was  this  way:  at  the 
moment  O'Malley  drained  his  unusual 
goblet,  a  mian  pressed  through  the 
crowd  around  the  table  and  touched 
him  on  the  arm.' 


372 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


"  '  Give  me  the  slipper;  I  have  been 
sent  for  it,'  he  said  imperatively. 

*'  *  Then,  sir,  you  know  whom  it  be- 
longs to,'  questioned  O'Malley  with 
an  oath. 

" 'Assuredly,' said  the  man.  'Come, 
I  am  waiting'.' 

"  'Tell  me  her  name,'  returned  Sir 
Thomas  angrily,  and  holding  the  slip- 
per high.  '  It  will  save  me  hunting 
through  Ireland  for  the  foot  this  was 
made  for.' 

"  'You  are  drunk,'  answered  the 
other  deliberately.  '  I  would  not  tell 
you  her  name  if  you  were  to  bribe  me 
with  every  golden  guinea  you  own.' 

"O'Malley  stepped  down  from  where 
he  was  standing  with  one  foot  on  the 
table  and  struck  at  the  man  looking 
up  at  him,  with  a  fearful  oath, — but 
as  he  struck  he  fell, — his  face  a  terri- 
fying purple,  his  lips  white  with  froth. 
Apoplexy,  you  know.  A  third  seizure, 
so  they  said.  He  lay  there  a  few 
minutes  while  we  gazed  at  him  in 
absolute  horror.  Then  the  man  who 
had  so  lately  spoken  to  him  bent  down 
and  took  the  small  blue  slipper  from  a 
dead  hand.  That,"  ended  Trevorton, "is 
how  the  story  came  to  me  on  ship-board." 

"Yes,"  said  John  Trevor,  breaking 
the  silence  that  followed.  "Yes,  and 
it  was  I  who  took  it  from  O'Malley. 
I  was  the  man.  It  was  wet  with  wine, 
and  his  fingers  seemed  fastened  to  it. 
Then  I  carried  it  to  her  where  she 
waited  in  the  conservatory. 

"There  were  other  men  who  loved 
her — many  of  them.  I  never  knew 
whether  she  cared  for — me — though 
sometimes  I  fancied — "  He  broke  off 
unsteadily,  but  went  on,  his  voice  low 
pitched,  as  though  it  were  to  himself 
he  spoke. 

"To-night  I  know.  You  see  —  I 
asked  her  to  send  me  this  on  St.  Val- 
entine's Day — if  she  cared.  It  has 
come,  but  it  is  fourteen  years  late.  It 
is  'A  BELATED  VALENTINE,'  gentlemen." 

"Where  is  she?"  said  Dudley,  after 
a  moment,  "if  I  may  ask.  Where 
is  she,  do  you  know?" 

John  Trevor  glanced  up  quickly. 
"She  is  in  the  Transvaal.  In  some 
one    of    those    God-forsaken     places 


where  our  wounded  men  are  first  car- 
ried bj  the  stretcher-bearers.  She 
wears  a  red  cross  on  her  sleeve. 
Come,"  he  cried,  his  voice  breaking, 
"wish  me  luck.  Wish  me  luck,  you 
fellows.  Old  Denny — you  remember 
old  Denny,  Dudley?  He  will  be  put- 
ting things  together,  and  we'll  be  away 
again."  So  he  bade  them  goodbye, 
and  went  out  into  the  cold,  star-lit  night 
with  a  little  blue  slipper  buttoned  close 
within  his  coat. 

Afterwards  the  two  men  left  behind 
relit  their  pipes  in  silence. 

Presently  Dudley  spoke,  reflectively. 
"I  always,"  he  said,  "at  least  for 
years,  have  been  a  firm  believer  in 
what  somebody  calls  'the  total  deprav- 
ity of  inanimate  things.'  " 

"I  don't  follow  you  exactly,"  said 
the  other.      "You  mean — " 

"I  refer  to  things  that,  apparently, 
with  malice  aforethought,  lose  them- 
selves, and  then  turn  up  innocently  at 
the  moment  one  stops  looking  for 
them.  The  pins  that  slip  out  of  places 
where  they  are  needed  and  tie  them- 
selves into  knots  of  concentrated  obsti- 
nacy when  it  is  of  vital  importance 
they  should  be  removed;  the  letters 
that  go  astray  when  they  are  not  mis- 
directed; the  insignificant  trifles  that 
make  or  wreck  one's  happiness;  the 
coincidences  seemingly  brought  to  pass 
by  an  inconsequent  and  a  mocking  fate. 
My  dear  Trevorton,  we  are  the  sport  of 
chance,  and  this  is  a  mad  world." 

"There  is  method  behind  its  mad- 
ness," he  answered,  with  slow  thought. 
"Don't  doubt  it,  Dudley.  See,"  going 
across  the  room,  "see  below  Du  Mau- 
rier's  sketch,  the  shadow  of  the  little 
slipper.  How  pretty  it  is — pointed 
toe,  Louis  heel.  It  hung  there  so  long 
the  paper  had  time  to  fade  around  it. 
I  shall  rather  miss  it,  do  you  know. 
Many  a  time,  sitting  here  alone,  I  have 
woven  romances  about  the  thing. 
Heigho!" 

"Drop  down  the  sketch  a  trifle  and 
hide  the  shade,  Trevorton.  So,  out 
of  sight  out  of  mind." 

"I  think  not,"  he  answered.  "A 
man  may  keep  his  shadows,  and  I  shall 
let  this  one  stay." 


^T^E  are  the  spectators  and  witnesses 
'  '  of  the  most  surprising  events 
that  have  happened  since  Columbus 
happened  on  that  "landfall"  that 
turned  out  to  be  the  outpost  of  a  new 
world.  No  other  event  in  the  last 
four  hundred  years  can  compare  in 
significance  with  those  which  have  re- 
vealed to  us  that  the  four  hundred 
millions  of  Mongols  and  Chinese  who 
inhabit  China  and  Japan  are  not  the 
negligible  factors  in  the  world's  popu- 
lations which  we  believed  them  to  be, 
but  on  the  contrary,  are  peoples  to  be 
reckoned  with,  to  be  treated  with  and 
to  be  deferred  to. 

Within  the  past  few  years  China,  at 
least,  has  been  classed  among  the 
dying  nations.  She  was  like  some 
huge  organism  with  a  faint  life  at  the 
heart,  but  whose  outer  limbs  were  the 
prey  of  every  chance  kite  or  buzzard 
with  an  appetite  for  benevolent  assimi- 
lation that  happened  along.  It  is  but 
two  or  three  years  since  there  was  a 
general  grab.  Germany  took  Kiau- 
chau,  Russia  "leased"  Port  Arthur, 
Great  Britain  appropriated  a  naval 
station  at  Wei-hai-wei,  and  assumed 
authority  over  a  small  circle  of  terri- 
tory on  the  mainland  opposite  Hong- 
Kong.  Italy,  too,  desired  2^ pied-a-terre^ 
but  China  drew  the  line  at  Italy,  and 
so  far  as  recollection  serves,  the  Ital- 
ians have  not  been  able  to  make  good 
their  pretensions.  These  events  were 
universally  interpreted  as  the  begin- 
ning of  the  end.  The  Boxer  uprising, 
followed  by  the  occupation  of  Pekin 
and  subsequent  imposition  of  a  money 
fine,  was  a  part  of  the  evidence.  The 
spectacle  was  seen  of  a  few  hundred 
European  troops  marching  through  a 
country  which  could  muster  almost  as 
manv  millions  of  inhabitants  as  there 


were  individuals  in  Count  Waldersee's 
composite  force. 

Then  there  was  Blagovestchensk, 
where  the  Cossacks  drove  thousands 
of  unoffending  Chinese  into  the  Amoor, 
so  that  their  dead  bodies  dammed  the 
river.  That  day  is  as  yet  unavenged; 
not  even  protested  against.  In  short, 
the  world  has  seen  the  most  populous 
Empire  that  the  sun  looks  upon  being 
treated  with  less  consideration  than 
some  horde  of  blacks  in  the  heart  of 
Africa.  Is  this  to  continue?  Has  not 
the  fall  of  Port  Arthur  changed  as  by 
a  piece  of  legerdemain  the  whole  rela- 
tions between  the  rest  of  the  world  and 
these  portentous  millions  whose  lack 
of  organisation  and  direction  has  made 
)hem  the  favourite  prey  of  European 
"enterprise?" 

Japan  itself  is  a  sufficiently  formid- 
able power,  but  if  it  were  possible  to 
make  China  as  effective  in  proportion, 
the  little  islanders  themselves  would 
recede  to  second  place  on  the  Pacific. 
This  is  a  catastrophe  which  Japan 
will  not  strive  to  bring  about.  It  will 
certainly  be  the  aim  of  Japan  not  to 
raise  a  spectre  which  she  could  not 
exorcise.  The  temptation  to  secure 
Chinese  aid  in  the  task  of  curbing 
Russian  ambitions  may  lead  to  that 
training  and  awakening  of  the  Chinese 
which  would  have  such  an  enorndous 
influence  on  the  course  of  events  on 
this  planet. 

The  possible  dominance  of  China 
may  be  regarded,  therefore,  as  a  most 
unfortunate  potentiality  of  Japanese 
success.  But  how  if  Russia  had  car- 
ried all  before  her  ?  Would  humanity 
be  any  better  off  or  freer  from  danger  ? 
Russia  had   started  to  masticate  Man- 


374  THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 

MILITARY    ARCHITECTURE    OF    PORT    ARTHUR    FORT 


''  Our  sketch  illustrates  the  terms  which  have  been  frequently  men- 
tioned in  despatches  describing  attacks  on  the  Port  Arthur  forts,"  says  the 
accurate  Manchester  Guardian.  "  The  approach  to  the  defences  shown  above 
is  conducted  by  parallels,  that  is,  by  lines  of  trenches  parallel  with  the  defences 
to  be  attacked,  and  advanced  closer  and  closer  by  means  of  '  zigzae '  trenches, 
the  batteries  advancing  at  tlie  same  time.  The  following  is  an  explanation  of 
the  various  terms: 

"  Glacis  :  The  sloping  descent  toward  the  open  country  from  the  top  of 
the  ditch,  cleared  of  any  obstacles  which  might  obstruct  the  lire  of  the 
defenders. 

"  Banquette:  A  step  on  which  the  defenders  stand  to  fire  over  any  para- 
pet in  front  of  them.  Thus  a  banquette  is  shown  a  few  feet  below  the  level  of 
the  actual  crest  of  the  glacis.  The  defenders,  standing  on  this,  fire  down  the 
slope  of  the  glacis.  Another  banquette  is  within  the  fort  proper,  a  few  feet 
below  the  parapet  which  rests  on  the  escarp. 

"Counterscarp:  The  face  of  the  ditch  nearest  to  the  besiegers.  There  is 
thus  a  slight  fall  from  the  actual  crest  of  the  glacis  to  the  banquette,  and  a 
further  slight  descent  from  the  banquette  to  the  top  of  the  counterscarp. 


^d. 


A- Superior  Slope 
h-Exterior  Slope 


"  Covered  Way:  A  passage  in  the  counterscarp,  running  round  the  ditch. 
In  this  the  defenders  gather  for  a  sortie,  under  protection  from  the  besiegers' 
fire.  It  contains  places  of  entrance  and  exit  toward  the  inner  works  of  the 
fort  and  the  outside. 

"The  Ditch:  Generally  from  15  to  20  feet  in  depth  and  about  40  yards  or 
more  in  breadth.  The  measurements,  however,  depend  on  the  size  of  the 
other  works. 

"Caponniere:  A  covered  work  emerging  out  of  the  escarp  and  placed 
across  the  ditch.  It  contains  guns,  loopholes  for  musketry,  etc.,  and  exposes  an 
enemy  descending  into  and  crossing  the  ditch  to  a  fierce  cross-fire.  Hence  the 
necessity  to  destroy  the  capoimiere  before  the  ditch  is  crossed. 

"  Escarp:  The  side  of  the  ditch  nearest  to  the  inner  fort. 

"  Berm :  A  step  left  between  the  escarp  proper  and  the  parapet.  The  parapet 
being  of  great  weight,  and  pressing  on  the  earth  beneath  (the  escarp)  tends  to 
push  it  outward  into  the  ditch.     The  berm  is  a  device  to  relieve  the  pressure. 

"  Parapet:  The  rampart  of  the  fort  proper,  sloping  downward  to  the  berm. 
Standing  on  the  banauette,  on  the  inner  side  of  the  parapet,  the  defenders 
have  a  clear  field  of  fire  over  the  escarp,  trench,  counterscarp,  and  glacis." 


churia.  She  would 
not  have  stopped 
there.  What  would 
have  happened  if 
Russia  had  been 
able  to  arm  and 
train  hosts  of  Chin- 
ese fighting-men  to 
carry  out  her  Asiatic 
programme?  The 
nations  might  well 
tremble  at  such  a 
prospect.  If  China 
must  have  a  bear- 
leader it  is  better 
that  it  should  be 
Japan  than  Russia. 
What  use  will  Japan 
make  of  her  victory? 
Her  leaders  have  an 
ambition  to  be 
thought  civilised 
and  modern.  It  is 
not  rash  to  expect 
that  they  will  al- 
ways be  found  fav- 
ourable to  whatever 
is  for  the  liberalis- 
ing and  enlighten- 
ing of  the  East. 
They  are  the  mas- 
ters of  the  Pacific. 
They  are  sure  to 
emerge  from  this 
struggle  with 
greater  maritime 
strength  than  when 
they  entered  it. 
They  have  lost  some 
ships,  but  they  have 
also  gained  some, 
and  by  the  time  their 
engineers  have 
dealt  with  the  sunk- 
en hulks  in  Port  Ar- 
thur harbour,  and 
have  said  their  final 
word  at  Vladivo- 
stock,  they  will  be 
more  fit  to  meet  an 
enemy  at  sea  than 
they  were  on  Feb- 
ruarys, 1904.  That 
is  the  master-key  to 
the  whole  situation. 


CURRENT  EVENTS  ABROAD 


375 


Even  if  we  suppose  that 
some  months  hence  Kuro- 
patkin  would  smash  his  way 
back  to  the  walls  of  Port 
Arthur,  what  a  hopeless  task 
would  still  be  his!  The  tak- 
ing of  the  fort  from  General 
Stoessel  was  an  enormous 
trial  even  for  the  not-to-be- 
denied  Japanese.  They  had 
everything-  in  their  favour. 
Not  a  pound  of  food  or  am- 
munition could  reach  the 
garrison.  The  besiegers  on 
the  other  hand  were  within 
two  or  three  days'  com- 
munication by  sail  with  their 
own  country.  If  Kuropat- 
kin  could  get  down  to  Port 
Arthur  he  would  be  only 
lengthening  the  lines  of 
communication  with  his  real 
base  so  many  miles  away. 
The  besieged  town  could 
only  be  invested  on  three  sides.  On 
the  fourth  it  would  be  open  to  the 
ships  of  all  the  world  for  the  receipt  of 
food,  ammunition  and  medical  sup- 
plies, for  the  supply  of  recruits  and 
the  externing  of  the  sick  and  wounded. 
To  subdue  Port  Arthur  under  such 
conditions  would  be  a  task  that  might 
well  give  pause  to  the  most  resolute, 
dogged  and  blood-careless  commander. 

The  plight  of  Russia  is  truly  epic. 
Whatever  course  is  taken  appears  to 
lead  inevitably  to  disaster.  The  second 
Baltic  fleet  is  hung  up  in  ocean,  not 
knowing  whether  to  proceed  and  fight 
or  turn  tail  and  fly.  There  is  no  spot 
of  ground  between  Vladivostock  and 
the  Baltic  where  it  can  throw  out  its 
cables  on  a  Russian  wharf.  At  last 
accounts  it  was  hovering  off"  the  coast 
of  Madagascar,  afraid  to  remain  in 
territorial  waters  for  fear  of  compro- 
mising French  neutrality.  If  it  de- 
cides to  take  the  homeward  track  the 
Japanese  will  undoubtedly  proceed  to 
annoy  Vladivostock.  From  this  time 
until  the  opening  of  spring  that  harbour 
will  be  sealed  in  ice  so  that  it  will  not 
be  necessary  for  the  fleet  to  do  any 


CAN  HE  PICK  IT  vv?— Selected 

blockading  work.  If  the  Japanese  can 
cut  the  railway  to  the  west  Russia's 
second  eastern  stronghold  will  be 
isolated  from  all  the  world.  The  posi- 
tion of  the  great  Empire  is  like  that  of 
a  strong  man  in  a  nightmare.  On  her 
vast  bulk  a  spell  has  fallen  like  a  par- 
alysis. It  has  been  shown  by  calcula- 
tion that  the  Siberian  railway  is  bard 
put  to  it  to  maintain  a  stream  of  sup- 
plies sufficient  for  300,000  men.  Per- 
haps in  these  estimates  the  possibilities 
of  local  food  supply  have  not  been 
sufficiently  considered.  At  all  events, 
if  the  railway  was  inadequate  in  sum- 
mer how  much  less  adequate  must  it 
be  in  a  Siberian  winter  ?  The  difficul- 
ties with  which  the  Russian  com- 
mander is  struggling  are  truly 
Homeric. 

Humanly  speaking,  Russia  is  beat- 
en. Nothing  but  a  succession  of 
miracles  could  rescue  her  from  the 
morass  in  which,  she  is  mired.  Pride 
prevents  her  from  acknowledging  her 
overthrow,  but  pride  cannot  win  battles 
nor  fight  against  fate.  The  sublime 
Romanoff  will  have  to  sue  for  peace. 
That  event  will  not  close  the  drama; 
it    will    be    the    opening    of    one,    as 


376 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


RUSSIA    IS    JUST   A    LITTLE   TOO    BUSY 
TION    TO    ANOTHER    PEACE   COWFERENCE 


TO    ACCEPT 
—Selected. 


AN    INVITA- 


our  children's  children  will  know. 
Russian  ambition  in  the  Far  East  will 
be  g'reatly  circumscribed,  but  can  so 
vast  a  power  be  cribbed,  cabined  and 
confined  at  all  points?  Will  not  her 
activities  in  the  direction  of  the  Sea  of 
Marmora,  the  Persian  Sea  and  India 
be  correspondingly  intensified  ?  To 
the  minds  of  Russian  officials,  the 
helplessness  of  the  Baltic  fleet  for 
lack  of  coaling  stations  and  Russian 
ports  of  call  must  be  matter  of  intense 
chagrin.  How  convenient  at  the  pres- 
ent moment  would  a  stronghold  in  the 
Persian  Gulf  be!  The  efforts  of  the 
great  northern  Colossus  to  gain  access 
to  ports  where  she  can  breathe  more 
freely  will  be  a  part  of  the  history  of 
the  future.  We  may  be  sure  that 
when  the  terms  of  peace  are  drawn  an 
effort  will  be  made  to  tie  Russia  down 
to  an  Asiatic  status  quo^  with  Japan, 
Great  Britain,  and  perhaps  other 
powers  as  guarantors. 


In  the  meantime  the 
whole  country  is  rock- 
ing and  seething  with 
internal  agitation. 
The  representatives  of 
what  we  would  call 
the  municipalities  were 
evidently  desirous  of 
constituting  them- 
selves a  body  which 
would  have  been  the 
germ  of  a  Parliament. 
When  they  assembled 
in  Moscow,  however, 
they  were  not  actually 
forbidden  to  meet,  but 
they  were  circum- 
scribed in  every  pos- 
sible way.  The  Anglo- 
Russian,  a  monthly 
published  in  London, 
England,  by  JaakofF 
Prelooker,  hails  this 
meeting  of  the  Zemst- 
vos  as  the  beginning 
of  a  revolution.  In 
the  latest  number  he 
outcry:  'Autocracy  is 
with    Autocracy  ! ' 


says: — "  The 
the  foe  !  Down 
resounds  now  from  all  lips,  from  the 
temples  of  learning,  public  halls,  and 
Zemstvo  assemblies  down  to  working- 
men's  gatherings  and  street  demon- 
strations. The  bear  has  awakened, 
and  no  power  on  earth  can  now  send 
him  to  sleep  again.  Political  rioting, 
armed  conflicts  with  the  police  and  the 
military  with  bloodshed  on  both  sides 
have  become  quite  the  order  of  the 
day  in  most  of  the  important  towns. 
It  is,  indeed,  the  beginning  of  revolu- 
tion, of  an  internal  war,  which  cannot 
even  be  called  civil  war  inasmuch  as 
practically  the  conflict  is  between  citi- 
zens on  one  side,  and  the  police  and 
the  military  at  the  disposal  of  the 
Autocracy  on  the  other  side."  Prince 
Kropotkin  puts  the  same  interpreta- 
tion on  these  events,  but  allowance 
must  be  made  for  the  personal  equa- 
tion in  both  cases. 

John.    A.   Ewan. 


\v/6rTAN 


3PHtRt 


GIRLS'  COLLEGES 

THERE  are  nineteen  hundred  girls 
attending  the  tw'elve  girls'  resi- 
dential schools  and  colleges  in  Toron- 
to. This  number,  although  including 
the  day  pupils  at  these  schools,  does 
not  include  girls  attending  any  small 
or  private  school — only  those  giving 
the  full  academic  course  leading  up  to 
the  university. 

Glen  Mawr,  Miss  Veal's  school  on 
Spadina  Avenue,  is  one  of  the  most 
noted  of  the  Toronto  colleges,  having 
been  widely  and  favourably  known  for 
many  years. 

St.  Margaret's  College,  on  Bloor 
street,  now  has  on  its  register  one 
hundred  and  fifty  students,  and  is  fast 
gaining  the  place  of  first  importance 
in  Toronto.  George  Dickson,  M.A., 
late  principal  of  Hamilton  Collegiate 
Institute  and  Upper  Canada  College,  is 
the  leading  director,  and  with  Mrs.  Dick- 
son as  lady  principal,  St.  Margaret's 
is  an  ideal  girl's  home — both  intellect- 
ually and  otherwise.  A  trip  through 
the  large  building  showed  elegant 
dining-rooms,  with  their  long  tables 
spread  with  spotless  linen  and  polished 
china,  up-to-date  class  rooms,  art  de- 
partment, practice  rooms  and  chapel. 
An  immaculate  kitchen  showed  uten- 
sils and  everything  used  in  domestic 
science;  a  large,  model  garden  bore 
evidence  of  practical  exhibitions  in 
gardening,  and  the  spacious  grounds 
told  of  many  a  health-giving  game  of 
tennis.  The  class-rooms  at  St.  Mar- 
garet's have  been  recently  built  especi- 
ally for  the  work,  and  excellent  atten- 
tion has  been  given  to  the  ventilation. 
In    every    room,   although    the    air  is 

fr-3T7 


warm,  it  is  perfectly  fresh,  the  bad  air 
being  carried  off  by  means  of  gas  jets 
arranged  in  fireplaces,  the  hot  air  com- 
ing up  from  the  furnace  through  reg- 
isters. 

•'  We  have  limited  our  resident  stu- 
dents to  forty,"  Mr.  Dickson  said. 
'•  This  is  so  the  home  life  can  be  well 
regulated  and  good.  Our  girls  are 
doing  very  fine  work.  They  publish 
their  own  college  paper,  St.  Margaret s 
Chronicle^  which  is  entirely  a  girl's 
paper.  Our  college  goes  in  a  body  to 
hear  all  the  big  musical  things  that 
come  to  the  city.  When  possible,  we 
get  a  programme  beforehand,  and  the 
numbers  are  explained  to  the  students. 
Then  they  go  prepared.  Afterwards 
they  write  criticisms,  which  are  pub- 
lished in  the  Chronicle.  A  review  of 
the  current  number  of  this  journal 
shows  certainly  a  creditable  produc- 
tion. 

St.  Margaret's,  aside  from  its  pre- 
paratory work  for  the  university,  pre- 
pares also  for  the  Conservatory  and 
colleges  of  music.  Every  Friday 
evening  the  pupils  give  a  piano  per- 
formance in  order  to  gain  confidence 
in  playing  before  the  public.  There 
are  more  pupils  from  St.  Margaret's 
taking  the  examinations  of  the  Con- 
servatory than  all  the  other  girls'  col- 
leges combined. 

Havergal  Ladies'  College,  which 
leads  the  list  in  point  of  attendance, 
has  three  hundred  and  fifty  on  its  roll. 
Its  limited  number  of  resident  students 
are  in  a  splendid  home,  where  the  de- 
votional life  is  particularly  strong. 
The  appointments  at  Havergal  are  all 
of  the  very  first,  and  this  ladies'  college 


378 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


is  perhaps  the  first  residential  girls' 
school  in  Canada  to  separate  the  junior 
from  the  senior  girls.  Its  aim  is  to 
keep  the  children  childlike  while  they 
are  young,  and  to  occupy  them  with 
tastes  and  interests  suitable  to  their 
age,  so  they  will  not  busy  themselves 
prematurely  with  the  graver  questions 
which  must  be  present  with  girls  of 
mature  age.  The  college  realises  that 
the  younger  girls  need,  besides,  a  dif- 
ferent discipline  from  that  of  older 
girls.  There  must  be  a  more  unques- 
tioning obedience  as  well  as  more  out- 
let for  fun.  They  must  have  a  play- 
room of  their  own,  and  go  earlier  to 
bed. 

Havergal  attaches  much  importance 
to  the  sports  of  the  college.  There 
are  large  lawns  used  for  basket-ball 
and  tennis  in  summer  and  skating  in 
winter.  This  rink  is  used  not  only 
in  the  daytime,  but  in  the  evening, 
when  teachers  and  girls  skate  for  an 
hour  before  retiring.  Dr.  Caven  holds 
that  this  exercise  at  the  close  of  the 
day's  work  has  been  very  instru- 
mental in  keeping  off  illness  of  all 
kinds.  At  the  signing  of  the  reports 
last  June,  the  principal  was  surprised 
to  find  that  girls  who  had  been  listless 
in  their  study  and  life  formerly,  had 
awakened  to  much  life  and  interest  in 
their  work.  On  enquiring  about  it, 
she  was  usually  told  by  the  form  mis- 
tress that  the  girls  were  in  the  basket- 
ball team,  "Those  who  lead  the 
games  soon  begin  to  lead  the  classes 
also,  and  control  of  mind  follows  con- 
trol of  body,"  said  the  principal.  "The 
great  point  is  to  see  that  the  rules  of 
sport  are  as  strictly  observed  by  the 
girls  as  they  would  be  by  boys,  and 
that  they  treat  opponents  with  fairness 
and  consideration." 

Havergal  last  year  had  an  average 
attendance  of  115  boarders  and  208 
day  girls.  The  resident  staff  numbered 
25,  and  visiting  teachers  18,  making 
43.  The  year's  work  was  finished 
without  accident  or  break  of  any  kind 
from  serious  illness. 

Bishop  Strachan  School,  with  its 
hundred  and  seventy-five  students, 
needs  no  eulogy,  as  it  is  too  old  an 


institution  and  too  well  known.  Spe- 
cial attention  is  given  to  the  fine  arts, 
and  in  every  way  is  it  a  splendid  seat 
of  learning  for  the  daughters  of  the 
Episcopalian  Church.  It  was  estab- 
lished in  1867,  with  the  object  of  giv- 
ing a  thorough  general  education  based 
on  Church  principles,  and  since  then 
it  has  constantly  kept  pace  with  the 
advance  of  knowledge.  The  school  is 
in  large  grounds  on  College  Street, 
with  space  for  tennis  and  croquet 
lawns,  a  nine-hole  putting  green,  a 
bicycle  track  and  a  cricket  field.  An 
addition  has  lately  been  added  to  the 
building  containing  six  single  rooms 
for  resident  pupils  and  mistresses,  four 
class-rooms,  a  studio,  a  manual  work- 
room and  a  gymnasium.  A  fine,  two- 
manual  pipe  organ,  blown  by  a  water- 
motor,  has  recently  been  built  in  the 
chapel  to  facilitate  the  growing  demand 
for  the  study  of  the  organ  in  connec- 
tion with  the  services  of  the  Church. 

Branksome  Hall  probably  stands 
alone  in  its  noble  striving  after  pure 
English.  Girls  are  taken  in  very 
early,  and  thus  every  chance  is 
grasped.  This  year  a  course  of 
twenty  lectures  on  "The  History  of 
English  Literature"  is  being  given  by 
Rev.  Alex.  MacMillan,  of  St.  Enoch's 
Church,  and,  although  a  broad  educa- 
tion is  furnished,  that  the  pupils  may 
be  well  balanced  in  learning,  the 
natural  gifts  of  the  pupils  are  noted 
and  developed.  The  school  keeps  in 
the  foreground,  however,  the  develop- 
ment of  character,  "for,"  as  Miss 
Scott  said,  "since  women  are  the 
home-makers,  and  the  home  is  the 
foundation  of  individual  and  national 
strength,  a  high  ideal  of  their  privi- 
leges and  responsibilities  will  be  in- 
culcated. I  am  fully  persuaded  that 
the  Bible  is  the  foundation  of  all  true 
moral  as  well  as  religious  develop- 
ment, and  the  Word  of  God  is  carefully 
studied."  Ample  opportunity  is  also 
afforded  the  girls  to  prepare  to  preside 
over  households  with  intelligence,  dig- 
nity and  practical  knowledge. 

No  one,  who  has  not  made  a  per- 
sonal call  at  the  colleges  and  met  the 
earnest    and   excellent  principals,  can 


WOMAN'S  SPHERE 


379 


form  any  idea  of  the  importance  or 
magnitude  of  the  life  there.  Mrs. 
Gregory,  the  lady  principal  of  Toronto 
Presbyterian  Ladies'  College,  with  its 
hundred  girls,  opened  her  dear,  moth- 
erly heart  to  the  writer,  and  said:  "I 
wish  that  you  could  impress  the  people 
with  the  greatness — the  importance — 
of  the  work  to  be  done  among  our 
girls.  We  take  the  older  girls  here, 
and  their  problems  are  many  and 
varied.  A  number  of  them  are  of  an 
age  when  they  must  be  allowed  to 
think  and  act  for  themselves.  It  is 
their  right,  and  we  will  not  say  to  them 
'Do  this'  or  'Do  that.'  We  must 
reason  with  them.  Some  come  from 
rich  homes  and  indulgent  parents,  and 
have  no  idea  of  the  serious  side  of  life. 
It  isthisforwhich  wemust  prepare  them. 
We  are  ready  and  anxious  to  help 
them,  but  it  takes  time  to  win  some  of 
them.  Often  and  often  have  I  taken  a 
dear,  mistaken  girl  to  my  heart  and 
talked  and  reasoned  with  her  until  she 
saw  things  differently.  I  am  here  to 
look  especially  after  the  home  life  of 
the  girls,  and  my  mother-heart  is  large 
enough  for  all  of  them." 

"Yes,"  continued  Mr.  Gregory,  the 
principal,  "  although  we  have  a  strong 
academic  course — splendid  teachers, 
music,  art  and  physical  culture — and 
are  constantly  aiming  to  make  it  even 
stronger,  we  realise  that  this  course 
must  play  but  a  small  part  in  a  girl's 
future  life.  It  is  to  make  our  girls 
intostrongwomen,  intellectually,  phys- 
ically, morally  and  spiritually,  that 
we  are  working,  and  for  this  the  home 
life  of  the  college  must  answer." 

"There  is  one  type  of  girl,"  Mrs. 
Gregory  said,  "that  is  better  away 
from  the  co-education  of  the  high 
schools  and  universities,  while  others 
are  benefited  by  the  stronger  element 
one  gets  in  co-education.  But  we  are 
prepared  to  carry  those  who  wish  it  on 
into  the  university  work." 

St.  Joseph's  Convent,  with  two  hun- 
dred and  fifty-two  girls  in  attendance; 
Loretto  Abbey,  with  two  hundred  and 
fifty;  Glen  Mawr,  with  a  hundred  and 
twenty-five;  Westbourne,  with  one 
hundred;    St.    Monica's    with    eighty; 


and  Parkdale  Church  School,  which 
we  include  because  it  is  on  the  eve  of 
becoming  a  residential  school,  with  its 
eighty-eight  pupils,  are  all  excellent, 
with  fine  courses  and  very  select. 
Much  that  has  been  said  of  the  schools 
enlarged  upon  applies  also  to  others  of 
these,  but  all  are  one  in  their  high 
ideals,  noble  aspirations  and  good 
spiritual  life. 

Toronto  may  well    be    proud  of  its 
girls'  resident  schools.  B.  J.  T. 


WOMEN  WRITERS 

ARE  Canadian  women  being  just  to 
Canadian  women  writers? 

Here  is  a  question  of  some  import- 
ance. If  what  Canadian  women  write 
is  Canadian  literature — there  are  those 
who  deny  it — then  it  should  receive  as 
much  consideration  as  that  written  by 
men.  At  present  this  is  hardly  the 
position  of  affairs.  What  the  men 
write  appeals  to  everybody;  what  the 
women  write,  being  mostly  of  a  lighter 
vein,  may  have  less  reason  for  general 
recognition.  Hence  the  women  of 
leisure,  the  women  of  breeding  and 
education  should  see  the  literary  work 
of  their  sisters  is  not  overlooked. 

I  venture  the  assertion,  and  I  do  it 
with  considerable  knowledge  of  Cana- 
dian book-selling,  that  there  are  not 
I, coo  women  in  the  whole  of  this 
broad  country  able  to  give  the  names 
of  two  Canadian  women  who  have 
written  a  volume.  Not  long  ago,  two 
young  women  who  were  attending  the 
Normal  School  in  Toronto  were  tak- 
ing tea  with  me.  I  asked  them  the 
name  of  their  favourite  Canadian 
author — and  they  hesitated.  At  first 
they  confessed  they  didn't  have  any. 
Finally,  one  of  them  fancied  she  liked 
Gilbert  Parker — the  only  Canadian 
author  she  could  name.  They  knew 
Tennyson,  Shakespeare,  George  Eliot, 
Pansy,  Annie  S.  Swan  and  Marie  Cor- 
elli;  but  of  Canadian  writers  they 
were  absolutely  ignorant.  Yet  within 
two  months,  those  two  young  women 
were  licensed  to  teach  in  the  public 
schools. 


380 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


On  my  shelves  I  find  the  following 
novels  by  Canadian  women: 

By  the  Queen's  Grace,  Virna 
Sheard. 

A  Maid  of  Many  Moods,  Virna 
Sheard. 

Trevelyan's  Little  Daughters,  Virna 
Sheard. 

Little  Lords  of  Creation,  H.  A. 
Keays. 

The  Mormon  Prophet,  Lily  Dougall. 

The  Story  of  Sonny  Sahib,  Mrs. 
Cotes. 

The  Path  of  a  Star,  Mrs.  Cotes. 

The  Imperialist,  Mrs.  Cotes. 

Diane  of  Ville  Marie,  Blanche  L. 
Macdonell. 

Cot  and  Cradle  Stories,  Mrs.  Traill. 

Crowned  at  Elim,  Stella  E.  Asling. 

Where  the  Sugar  Maple  Grows, 
Adeline  M.  Teskey. 

Gabriel  Praed's  Castle,  Alice  Jones. 

Bubbles  We  Buy,  Alice  Jones. 

The  Night-Hawk,  Alice  Jones. 

The  Untempered  Wind,  Joanna  E.- 
Wood. 

A  Daughter  of  Witches,  Joanna  E. 
Wood. 

Judith  Moore,  Joanna  E.  Wood. 

Farden  Ha',  Joanna  E.  Wood. 

Tilda  Jane,  Marshall  Saunders. 

Rose  4  Charlitte,  Marshall  Saunders. 

Committed  to  His  Charge,  R.  and 
K.  M.  Lizars. 

Heralds  of  Empire,  Agnes  C.  Laut. 

A  Detached  Pirate,  Helen  Milecete. 

In  addition,  there  are  a  few  volumes 
of  poetry  and  one  or  two  more  serious 
books. 

This  is  an  inadequate  collection,  but 
I  hope  to  enlarge  it  in  the  future.  I 
buy  only  as  I  am  able  to  read.  Each 
of  the  above  has  received  some  atten- 
tion, and  there  is  not  one  that  I  care 
to  part  with.  I  want  them  for  my 
children,  and  I  hope  that  they  will 
treasure  them  with  pride  as  "Mother's 
Canadian  books."  It  seems  as  if  it 
would  be  more  genuine,  more  mean- 
ing-full than  "  Mother's  United  States 
books." 

Perhaps  I  am  not  setting  a  very 
high  standard  before  me,  but  it  seems 
impossible  to  understand  the  life  of  the 
country,   if   one    does  not  examine  it 


through    the    eyes    of    our    cleverest 
women.  Mary  Emerson. 


THE    THEATRE 

THE  women  of  Toronto  and  of 
Montreal  will  tolerate  almost 
anything  on  the  stage.  They  seem  to 
forget  that  the  one  privilege  remaining 
to  them  is  that  of  discountenancing 
actresses  who  bring  disgraceful  plays. 
Instead  they  consent  to  go  to  hear  the 
vilest  of  conversation  and  the  most 
suggestive  kind  of  acting. 

Montreal  has  recently  been  visited 
by  a  lady  whom  the  Gazette  describes 
in  the  words: 

"MADAME    REJANE'S   ART    IS 
SIZZLING" 

The  lady  played  "MaCousine"  at 
"His  Majesty's"  and  charged  extra 
prices.  The  play  itself  is  not  so  bad, 
but  it  would  hardly  be  allowed  into 
Sunday-schools.  It  deals  with  the 
love-problem  of  married  people — as  it 
is  in  Paris,  not  in  Canada.  As  for  the 
actress  herself,  the  following  para- 
graph from  the  Gazette  is  both  clever 
and  to  the  point: 

"  This  Rejane  sense  of  humour,  which  in 
reahty  amounts  to  mischief,  was  constantly 
called  in  play  in  her  character  last  night.  In 
"  Ma  Cousine  "  it  illumined  her  work  until  the 
role  of  Riquette,  actress  of  the  Theatre  des 
Fantaises-Amoureuses,  became  a  brilliant, 
sparkling,  and  as  many  thought  last  night, 
extremely  naughty  creature.  Her  sense  of 
fun  may  almost  be  said  to  be  unique,  so  dif- 
ferent is  it  from  the  brand  handed  out  by  Eng- 
lish and  American  "funny  people,"  to  evoke 
a  laugh.  In  her  light  moods  (and  she  was 
nothing  else  last  night),  the  actress  reminded 
you  of  nothing  so  much  as  of  a  mischievous 
child  who  delights  in  doing  those  little  risque 
things  it  knows  it  really  ought  not  to  do. 
And  so  it  came  to  pass  that  the  audience 
found  Rejane  doing  things  that  must  have 
shocked  many  or,  at  least,  made  them 
sit  up.  To  witness  her  pantomimic  dance  in 
Act  II,  when  madame,  in  afternoon  reception 
dress,  literally  girded  up  her  loins  and  pro- 
ceeded to  execute  something  in  the  way  of  a 
Parisian  dance.  It  was  a  touch  of  realism 
which,  to  say  the  least,  bordered  on  the 
vulgar,  nor  was  it  lessened  by  the  devilish 
wink  in  madame's  eye.  True,  she  was  en- 
deavouring to  allure  a  man  by  the  dance.  She 
succeeded,  but  incidentally  shocked  a  large 
audience." 


INDEPENDENCE 

HERE  is  a  cry  just  now 
for  more  independence 
among  journalists,  mem- 
bers of  parliament  and 
publicists.  The  cry  in 
its  present  form  is  misdirected.  Inde- 
pendence can  arise  in  this  country 
only  by  being  born  in  the  heart  and 
mind  of  the  average  citizen.  If  party 
government  has  become  partisan  gov- 
ernment, the  blame  is  on  the  average 
citizen.  It  is  his  fault  if  politicians 
and  publicists  have  become  dema- 
gogues and  manipulators  ;  if  the 
press  is  partisan  in  every  fibre  of  its 
being.  If  he  places  party  above  con- 
science, above  good  government,  he 
cannot  expect  the  men  whom  he  elects 
to  have  a  different  standard. 

When  audiences  learn  to  refrain 
from  applauding  the  blustering  utter- 
ances of  partisans  and  acquire  the 
habit  of  cheering  the  man  who  is  dig- 
nified, fair  and  free  from  frenzy,  the 
public  men  of  the  day  will  infuse  a 
higher  tone  into  their  speeches  and 
discussions.  When  the  supporters  of 
a  particular  party  learn  to  protest 
against  a  resorting  to  underhand  and 
unfair  methods  of  party  warfare,  these 
methods  will  become  unpopular.  When 
the  people  cease  to  cry  *'  demagogue," 
"manipulator,"  and  "  corruptionist  " 
at  every  public  man  on  the  other  side 
of  politics,  these  terms  will  be  of  some 
service  to  describe  a  few  isolated  indi- 
viduals who  deserve  them.  When  the 
people  in  the  constituencies  learn  to 
vote  for  independent  candidates — inde- 
pendent Conservatives  and  Independ- 
ent Liberals — there  will  be  more  inde- 
pendence in  the  Legislatures  and  in 
the  House  of  Commons.  At  present 
there  are  not  ten  constituencies  in 
Canada  where  a  candidate  not  owning 


allegiance  to  one  or  other  of  the  par- 
ties could  get  votes  enough  to  save  his 
deposit.  The  independent  candidate 
is  the  mutual  enemy  of  the  party 
worker  and  party  voter. 

When  the  people  who  buy  news- 
papers learn  to  protest  against  mis- 
leading statements  and  slanderous 
insinuations  in  the  editorials  of  their 
favourite  journal,  the  editors  will  cease 
to  write  them.  At  present  if  there  is 
a  particularly  slanderous  editorial  in  a 
daily  paper  there  is  likely  to  be  a  con- 
siderable number  of  narrow-minded 
citizens  call  on  the  editor  to  offer  him 
congratulations.  An  honest  protest  is 
likely  to  have  a  cool  reception.  Hence 
it  is  that  there  are  many  papers  in 
Canada  which  exist  only  because  of 
their  partisanship,  though  they  serve 
no  useful  public  purpose,  and  do  but 
absorb  a  portion  of  the  revenue  which 
should  go  to  journals  that  at  least 
make  some  attempt  to  be  honest  and 
fair. 

The  voter  who  boasts  that  he  never 
cast  a  Liberal  vote  in  his  life,  or  the 
man  who  swells  his  chest  over  never 
having  cast  a  Conservative  ballot  in  his 
twenty-five  years  of  suffrage-using,  is  a 
man  to  be  pitied.  Personally,  I  do  not 
believe  in  a  Third  Party,  an  Independ- 
ent Party,  a  Labour  Party,  or  a  Socialist 
Party,  but  I  do  sincerely  believe  in 
such  independence  among  Liberals  and 
Conservatives  as  will  tend  to  uphold 
the  right  and  to  suppress  the  wrong. 
I  have  met  a  great  many  members  of 
Parliament  and  I  have  to  acknowledge 
that  I  believe  that  the  percentage  of 
genuine  independence,  broad-based 
patriotism  and  intelligent  citizenship  is 
higher  in  these  men  than  in  the  great 
body  of  the  electors.  I  believe  that 
most  of  them  use  their  partisanship 
only  when  it  is   necessary  for  the  pur- 


38. 


382 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


pose  of  maintaining  their  position  in 
the  party,  and  that  this  unavoidable 
use  of  it  is  extremely  distasteful  to 
them. 

The  people  who  ask  the  politicians, 
publicists  and  editorial  writers  to  be 
independent  must  first  be  independent 
themselves,  and  all  these  things  will  be 
added  unto  them. 


THE    NOMINATING   CONVENTION 

THE  absence  of  interest  on  the  part 
of  business  men  in  the  working  of 
the  Nominating  Convention  is  one  of 
the  weakest  points  in  our  political  life. 
The  Ward  Association  meets  to 
choose  delegates  to  the  Nominating 
Convention  of  the  Riding.  This  is  the 
first  step.  In  this  Ward  Association 
meeting  one  finds  a  few  young  me- 
chanics, a  dozen  lawyers,  two  or  three 
business  men,  and  a  large  number  of 
party  hacks.  The  party  hacks  out- 
number the  respectable  element.  At 
such  a  meeting  in  Toronto  recently,  a 
fireman,  who,  I  believe,  did  not  even 
live  in  the  ward,  was  in  command  of  a 
band  of  fifty  young  men  and  old  who 
voted  yea  and  nay  as  he,  standing  in 
front  of  them,  directed.  If  a  man  was 
nominated  whom  he  did  not  know  his 
fifty  votes  went  solid  against  that  par- 
ticular nominee.  This  is  but  one  ex- 
ample of  how  ignorance,  prejudice 
and  self-interest  predominate  at  such 
gatherings  of  free  and  intelligent  elec- 
tors. 

Because  the  Ward  Association  meet- 
ings are  not  attended  by  the  educated 
men — who  sit  in  their  cosy  libraries 
and  read  editorials  on  political  corrup- 
tion— the  result  is  a  packed  Nominat- 
ing Convention.  That  is,  it  is  packed 
with  the  friends  of  the  candidate  who 
took  most  interest  in  the  proceedings, 
the  candidate  with  the  greatest  desire 
to  be  elected  or  with  the  most  money 
to  spend.  The  Convention  is  called  to 
order,  and  the  rest  of  the  proceedings 
are  farcical.  Amid  greet  cheering, 
the  candidate  who  has  spent  his  time 
and  money  in  having  the  Convention 
packed,    is    chosen    as    the    standard- 


bearer  of  the  party.  He  feels  the 
weight  of  the  responsibility  thus  so 
suddenly  and  so  unexpectedly  thrust 
upon  him.  He  promises  to  do  every- 
thing he  can  to  be  elected  and  to  get 
offices  and  contracts  for  those  who  are 
most  faithful  and  most  persistent. 
He  paints  the  errors  and  weaknesses 
of  the  other  party  in  lurid  colours,  and 
does  all  he  can  to  arouse  the  worst  in- 
stincts of  those  whom  he  addresses. 
In  a  short  time,  if  he  be  clever,  they 
are  a  crowd  of  snarling  beasts,  long- 
ing for  the  blood  of  their  opponents. 

And  all  this  time  the  university  pro- 
fessor, the  immaculate  doctor,  the 
white-tied  editor,  the  kid-gloved  mer- 
chant, the  fashion-plate  broker  and  the 
high-browed  financier  are  about  their 
own  business.  "  Politics  are  rotten," 
they  say,  "we  wouldn't  touch  them." 
And  so  the  governing  of  the  country  is 
in  the  hands  of  the  working  classes  and 
the  lawyers.  The  working  classes  must 
be  manipulated,  cajoled,  driven, 
deceived  and  convinced.  The  law- 
yers, the  younger  lawyers,  do  the 
work.  This,  by  the  way,  is  the  first 
step  in  the  training  of  a  judge.  As 
soon  as  a  lawyer  has  manipulated  half 
a  dozen  nominating  conventions  he  is 
made  a  county-court  judge. 

But  it  would  be  unwise  to  do  away 
with  nominating  conventions.  They 
are  necessary  to  give  us  members  of 
Parliament — and  they  are  necessary  to 
the  selection  of  our  future  justices. 


SALARIES  AND  REPUTATION 

THE  time  has  arrived  when  the  sal- 
aries of  the  Dominion  Cabinet 
Ministers  and  the  Supreme  Court 
Judges  should  be  materially  increased. 
The  pay  of  the  members  of  Parliament 
has  recently  had  a  reasonable  increase 
from  $  1 ,000  to  $  1 ,  500  a  session,  and  that 
is  sufficient  for  them  at  present.  The 
salaries  of  the  Executive  and  the  Chief 
Judiciary  are,  however,  still  inade- 
quate. 

In  the  United  States  the  President 
gets  $50,000  a  year,  and  it  is  proposed 
to  increase  this  to  $100,000,  while  the 


PEOPLE  AND  AFFAIRS 


383 


Vice-President  gets  $8,000,  which 
may  be  increased  to  $20,000.  The 
Premier  of  Canada  has  not  all  the 
duties  of  the  President  and  V^ice- Presi- 
dent because  the  Governor-General 
relieves  him  of  much  of  the  costly  en- 
tertaining which  is  required  at  Ottawa. 
On  the  other  hand,  he  has  some  duties 
in  connection  with  his  seat  in  the 
House  of  Commons  which  the  Presi- 
dent has  not.  His  present  salary  of 
$9,500  is  quite  inadequate  and  should 
be  increased  to  $15,000  at  least.  The 
Cabinet  Ministers  with  portfolios,  if 
generously  treated,  should  receive 
$12,500  each  instead  of  $8,500,  though 
as  compared  with  the  Cabinet  officers 
of  the  United  States  they  are  already 
fairly  well  reinunerated. 

The  pay  of  the  Supreme  Court 
judges  should  be  increased  from  $5,600 
to  $10,000  a  year.  The  Justices  of 
the  Supreme  Court  of  the  United 
States  receive  $12,500,  and  it  is  pro- 
posed to  increase  this  to  $20,000.  A 
prominent  lawyer  may  earn  $15,000  to 
$20,000  in  the  practice  of  the  profes- 
sion. The  very  best  men  should  be 
chosen  for  our  Supreme  Court,  and 
there  is  quite  enough  sacrifice  when  a 
lawyer  surrenders  $5,000  or  $10,000  a 
year  to  serve  his  country  in  its  chief 
court.  Besides,  these  judges  have 
social  obligations  which  must  not  be 
overlooked. 

Just  at  this  stage  in  the  country's 
development,  the  most  honoured  and 
most  distinguished  citizens  should  be 
found  in  the  Cabinet  and  the  Supreme 
Court.  On  these  two  bodies  depends 
our  future  success.  The  Cabinet  de- 
cides the  administrative  and  legislative 
policy,  the  Supreme  Court  the  judicial 
policy.  The  majority  of  the  House  of 
Commons  may  be  men  of  mediocre 
ability,  men  who  know  little  beyond 
the  mere  routine  of  manipulating  a 
riding,  but  that  body  cannot  go  far 
wrong  if  the  Cabinet  of  the  day  be 
strong,  virile  and  intellectual.  The 
judges  in  the  provinces  may  be  weak, 


or  may  be  swayed  by  different  sets  of 
prejudices,  ideals  or  ideas,  but  the 
judicial  theories  of  the  constitution  will 
be  upheld  if  there  is  a  strong  Supreme 
Court. 

There  has  never  been  a  whisper  of 
reproach  against  any  member,  past  or 
present,  of  the  Supreme  Court  of  Ca- 
nada. They  have  been  honourable 
and  upright  men.  The  families  of  the 
present  and  future  members  should  be 
provided  for,  their  financial  burdens 
should  be  lightened,  and  then  their  best 
efforts  will  be  always  at  the  service  of 
the  State. 

The  Cabinet  Ministers  since  1867 — 
to  go  no  farther  back — have  been  hon- 
ourable men  with  one  or  two  excep- 
tions. Most  of  them  have  given  more 
than  they  received;  few  having  m- 
creased  their  worldly  possessions  dur- 
ing their  term  of  office.  To  be  sure, 
it  is  presumed  that  the  honour  of  be- 
ing a  member  of  His  Majesty's  Privy 
Council  in  Canada  is  supposed  to  be 
an  honour  quite  adequate  as  a  reward 
tor  the  sacrifice  required.  Perhaps  it 
would  be  were  it  not  that  there  has 
grown  up  in  this  country  a  practice  of 
sneering  at  public  men.  Every  move 
they  make  is  regarded  with  suspicion. 
Every  motive  is  dissected  for  alien 
elements.  The  party  press  teems  at 
times  with  unpatriotic,  unjustifiable 
and  irresponsible  insinuations  concern- 
ing the  leading  publicists  and  parlia- 
mentarians of  the  day.  Indeed,  the 
growth  of  intelligence  in  the  press 
seems  to  be  confined  mainly  to  the  ad- 
vertising and  circulation  departments. 
Where  there  is  wrong  to  be  exposed 
and  condemned,  the  newspaper  editors 
are  justified  in  speaking  plainly  and 
frankly,  but  instead  of  reserving  their 
thunder  for  great  occasions  they  dis- 
sipate it  in  creating  a  series  of  small 
shocks  which  are  decidedly  infantile  in 
character.  If  this  could  be  changed, 
a  Cabinet  Minister's  position  might  be 
made  as  desirable  an  honour  here  as  it 
is  in  Great  Britain. 


John  A.   Cooper 


Abovt 

Mew 


THE   ATTITUDE 

IT  is  not  the  thing  itself,  it  is  our 
attitude  towards  it.  Books  are 
useless  until  examined  and  read;  and 
even  then  the  reading-  is  barren  effort 
unless  one  reads  with  a  purpose. 

When  you  buy  books  do  not  decide 
on  the  book  to  buy  by  the  size  of  the 
advertisement  you  read.  If  you  hear 
that  a  book  is  equal  to  anything  Scott 
or  Dickens,  or  Kingsley  or  Hawthorne 
ever  wrote,  beware  of  it.  Exaggera- 
tion is  the  bane  of  modern  publishing. 
Remember  that  you  went  crazy  over 
"David  Harum"  and  "  When  Knight- 
hood Was  in  Flower,"  and  that  these 
books  are  already  forgotten.  You 
loved  dear  old  "  Mrs.  Wiggs,"  but  she 
will  be  gone  in  a  day  or  two.  Do  not 
let  the  money-making  publisher  excite 
you.  There  are  a  lot  of  fine  people  in 
the  world  who  have  not  yet  read  any 
one  of  these  three  volumes.  That  now 
much-tooted  book  "The  Masquer- 
ader "  will  be  forgotten  in  a  day  or 
two — ^just  wait. 

What  do  you  want  from  books?  Is 
your  demand  merely  for  something  to 
kill  time,  give  you  chills  and  "creeps" 
and  keep  you  awake  an  hour  longer 
in  the  evening?  Then  buy  dime 
novels,  they  are  so  much  cheaper.  Is 
it  to  be  able  to  say  that  you  have  read 
the  current  books  ?  If  so,  you  are 
lacking  in  judgment  and  taste.  You 
are  in  the  five-o'clock-tea,  most- 
delightful  -don't-you-  know-oh-rather 
class.  Get  out  of  it.  Shake  the  dust 
of  it  off  your  feet,  and  go  up  higher. 

What  should  books  give  you  ?  A 
knowledge  of  things  unknown,  a  bet- 
ter grip  on  life  by  a  greater  knowledge 
of  what  is  real  and  true,  a  wider 
human  sympathy,  a  greater  knowledge 
of  the  ethical  issues  of  life.  They 
should  give  you  a  profounder,  broader 

384 


view  of  civilisation;  teaching  you  how 
to  become  greater  in  moral  power,  in 
ethical  balance,  and  in  mental  equip- 
ment. 

There  are  men  and  women  in  Ca- 
nada to-day  who  are  drunken  and 
besotted  with  trashy  novels.  There 
are  public  and  Sunday-school  libraries 
in  this  country  that  do  not  circulate  a 
hundred  good  books  a  year.  There 
are  bookstores  in  Canada  and  book- 
departments  of  large  stores  that  do 
more  to  destroy  the  human  intellect 
than  any  half-dozen  cigarette  stores  in 
the  same  town  or  city.  The  stalls  of 
these  stores  are  filled  with  the  scour- 
ings,  the  filth,  the  leavings  of  the 
United  States  market — bought  at  a 
bargain,  sold  at  a  bargain  plus  a  per- 
centage. Better  one  volume  of  Scott, 
Dickens  or  George  Eliot  than  a  hun- 
dred bargain  volumes,  written,  printed 
and  bound  in  the  slums  of  New  York. 


THE   SEA-WOLF 

TACK  LONDON  should  have  called 
J  his  book  "Wolf  Larsen,"  not 
"The  Sea- Wolf."*  The  title  chosen 
makes  one  think  of  an  animal  book, 
whereas  the  former  title  would  have 
clearly  indicated  that  it  was  the  story 
of  a  Danish  sea-captain,  a  man  with  a 
wolfish  nature.  Mr.  London  might 
reply  that  Wolf  Larsen  was  an  animal, 
and  hence  the  title  was  not  inappro- 
priate. True,  indeed,  but  animals  do 
not  read  Spenser  and  Browning,  do  not 
delight  in  Omar  Khayyam,  do  not  com- 
mand a  sailing  schooner  in  the  sealing 
business.  In  so  far  as  Wolf  Larsen 
believed  in  brute  strength  he  was  an 
animal.  Besides,  he  believed  in  neither 
right  nor  wrong: 

*The  Sea  Wolf,  by  Jack  London.    Toronto: 
Morang  &  Co.     Illustrated. 


ABOUT  NEW  BOOKS 


>85 


"  Mig^ht  is  rig-ht,  and  that  is  all 
there  is  to  it.  Weakness  is  wronj,. 
Which  is  a  verj'  poor  way  of  say- 
ing- that  it  is  g-ood  for  one's  self  to 
be  strong,  and  evil  for  one's  self 
to  be  weak — or  better  yet,  it  is 
pleasurable  to  be  strong  because 
of  the  profits;  painful  to  be  weak 
because  of  the  penalties.  " 

Larsen  believed  instreng^th 
as  the  arbiter  of  destiny;  and, 
therefore,  when  he  picked  up 
"Sissy"  Van  Weyden,  au- 
thor and  critic,  in  the  open 
sea,  and  pulled  him  on  board, 
he  made  him  cabin  boy,  so 
that  he  might  gain  strength 
of  body  to  assist  his  strength 
of  intellect.  Van  Weyden 
objected,  but  his  objections 
were  overruled,  and  he  was 
practically  a  slave  along 
with  all  others  who  served 
on  the  Ghost  under  the  most 
terrible  tyrant  in  the  North 
Pacific. 

This  Scandinavian  Luci- 
fer is  a  character;  whether 
he  was  worth  creating  is  an- 
other question.  He  is  a 
white-skinned,  fair-haired 
savage  born  a  few  centuries 
too  late. 

"The  frivolity  of  the  laugh- 
ter-loving Latins  is  no  part 
of  him.  When  he  laughs  it  is  from  humour 
that  is  nothing  else  than  ferocious.  But  he 
laughs  rarely;  he  is  too  often  ».ad,  and  it 
is  sadness  as  deep-reaching  as  the  roots  of 
the  race.  It  is  the  race  heritage,  the  sadness 
which  has  made  the  race  sober-minded,  clean- 
lived  and  fanatically  moral,  and  which,  in  this 
latter  connection,  has  culminated  among  the 
English  in  the  Reformed  Church  and  Mrs. 
Grundy." 

On  this  hell-ship  Van  Weyden  had 
some  startling  experiences. 

"Brutality  had  followed  brutality,  and 
flaming  passions  and  cold-blooded  cruelty 
had  driven  men  to  seek  one  another's  lives 
and  to  strive  to  hurt,  maim  and  destroy.  My 
nerves  were  shocked.  My  mind  itself  was 
shocked.  All  my  days  had  been  passed  in 
comparative  ignorance  of  the  animality  of 
man.  In  fact,  I  had  known  life  only  in  its  in- 
tellectual phases." 

How  Van  Weyden  rose  to  be  mate; 
how  Miss  Brewster,  another  waif  of 
the  sea,  a  poetess  bound  on  a  pleas- 
ure-trip to  Japan,  was  picked   up   and 


\V.    A.    FRASER 

Author  of  "IfoocwB,"  "  Tborouchbivds,"  etc. 
From  a  Paintimg  by  himself 

kept  a  prisoner  among  these  brutal 
men;  how  these  two  fell  in  love  with 
each  other,  and  strove  to  avoid  a  com- 
mon fate;  how  they  escaped  in  an  open 
boat,  and  were  shipwrecked  on  a  small 
island,  where  two  hundred  thousand 
seals  were  the  only  inhabitants;  how 
they  finally  escaped — this  makes  up  a 
thrilling  story. 

MR.    HOWELLS   SLIPS 

WILLIAM  DEAN  HOWELLS 
*  '  should  hire  an  editor  to  go  over 
his  proofs,  or  his  publishers  should  do 
it  for  him.  Here  are  two  sentences 
from  his  latest  story,  "The  Son  of 
Royal  Langbrith:"* 

"  Her  backyard,   between  this    porch    and 
the    stable,  was  as   clear  as  the  front  yard, 

*New  York:  Harper  &  Brothers.    Toronto: 
The  Poole  Pub.  Co. 


386 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


which  dropped  from  the  terrace  where  the 
house  stood,  and  sloped  three  yards  and  no 
more  to  tlie  white  paHng  fence,  in  the  gloom 
of  four  funereal  firs,  cropped  upward  as  their 
bougfhs  died  of  their  own  denseness,  till  their 
trunks  showed  as  high  as  the  chamber 
windows." 

The  second  is  like  unto  this,  though 
not  such  a  conglomeration  of  more  or 
less  loosely  related  statements: 

"  She  was  constantly  finding  him  in  the 
house  of  affliction,  which  she  visited  in  her 
own  quality  of  good  angel,  and  it  was  with- 
out surprise  or  any  feeling  of  coincidence 
that  she  now  met  him  coming  to  the  gate  of 
a  common  patient,  which  she  opened  next 
after  closing  Mrs.  Langbrith's." 

The  separation  of  "gate"  and 
"which"  makes  the  sentence  ridicu- 
lous.     At  best  it  is  too  "loose." 

If  Mr.  Howell's  reputation  is  to 
depend  on  this  book,  in  even  a  small 
measure,  it  will  not  last  much  longer. 
As  a  story  it  is  flat;  as  a  piece  of  writ- 
ing it  is  execrable  in  many  places;  as 
a  literary  production  it  sorely  lacks  the 
fire  of  genius.  It  seems  too  bad  that 
the  Dean  of  United  States  literature 
should  have  fallen  upon  such  weak 
days. 


MR.  CARM.\NS  ESSAYS 

BLISS  CARMAN'S  two  volumes  of 
Essays  show  his  genius  in  a  new 
light.  In  the  first,  "The  Kinship  of 
Nature,"*  he  discourses  on  the  art  life, 
strenuousness,  beauty,  ugliness,  the 
luxury  of  being  poor,  and  varying 
phases  of  nature.  Each  little  essay  is 
a  literary  gem,  redundant  in  thought- 
producing  power  and  suggestive 
phrases.  In  his  second,  "The  Friend- 
ship of  Art,"  he  follows  up  his  work 
in  the  first  volume,  laying  stress  on 
the  artistic  phases  of  life  in  opposition 
to  the  material.  In  other  words,  the 
first  volume  deals  mainly  with  the 
objective  side  of  life;  the  second  with 
the  subjective.  Here  are  some  of  the 
headings  from  the  latter:  The  Burden 
of  Joy,  The  Tides  of  the  Mind,  The 
Training  of  Instinct,  Speech-culture 
and  Literature,  The  Secret  of  Art, 
Sanity  and  Art,  The  Creative  Spirit,  The 
Critical  Spirit  and  Vanitas  Vanitatum. 

♦Toronto:  The  Copp,  Clark  Co.  Cloth, $2.00. 


Both  volumes  may  safely  be  highly 
recommended  and,  being  by  a  Cana- 
dian, have  a  special  significance  for 
the  people  of  the  country. 


NOTES 

Who  has  not  heard  of  the  Paisley 
shawl,  once  so  important  a  part  of  a 
lady's  trousseau  ?  Matthew  Blair  is  the 
author  of  a  volume  entitled  "The 
Paisley  Shawl  and  the  Men  Who  Pro- 
duced It."*  This  is  beautifully  illus- 
trated with  coloured  plates  showing 
the  chief  patterns  used.  It  is  espe- 
cially interesting  and  valuable  to  all 
those  interested  in  the  application  of 
art  to  industry.  The  men  who  made 
these  fabrics  were  full  of  love  for  their 
artistic  trade,  and  the  lesson  of  their 
lives  should  never  be  forgotten. 

The  British  War  Office  has  issued  a 
"Report  of  the  Survey  of  Canada"  by 
Major  C.  H.  Hills,  C.M.G.  The  idea 
in  its  preparation  was  to  find,  first, 
the  value  of  the  present  maps  of 
Canada;  second,  the  adequacy  of  the 
existing  survey;  and  third,  the  lines 
along  which  future  surveys  should  pro- 
ceed. The  author  makes  important 
recommendations. 

A  very  dainty  volume  of  quotations 
is  issued  by  T.  N.  Foulis,  3  Frederick 
Street,  London,  Eng.  It  is  entitled 
"Seeds  from  the  Garden  of  the 
World,"  and  is  by  Mary  Morgan 
(Gowan  Lea). 

Among  recent  minor  publications 
are:  "  British  Columbia's  Claim  for 
Better  Terms,"  by  George  H.  Cowan, 
Independent  Ptg.  Co.,  Vancouver,  pp. 
31.  "Canadian  Banking,"  by  Duncan 
M.  Stewart,  Gen.  Man.  Sovereign 
Bank  of  Canada.  Privately  printed, 
Montreal,  pp.  43.  "Report  of  the 
Fifth  Annual  Meeting  of  The  Cana- 
dian Forestry  Association,"  Govern- 
ment Printing  Bureau,  Ottawa,  pp. 
127.  "  The  Trust  Company  Idea  and 
its  Development,"  by  Ernest  Heaton, 
B.A.,  Oxon.  Toronto:  The  Hunter, 
Rose  Co.,  pp.  45. 

"Paisley:  Alexander  Gardner.  Cloth,  quarto, 
84  pp. 


omeots. 


t 


A    LA   MEREDITH 
CHAPTER    I 
"Will  you  be  mine,  Felicia?" 
"For  how  long,  Albert?" 
"For  fifteen  years,  dearest." 
"No;  but  I  will  for  ten  years." 
"Can't  you  make  it  twelve?" 
"No;  ten  is  the  limit." 
"All  right.      Here's  the  ring.    Take 

good    care    of    it,   for    I    may    need  it 

again." 

CHAPTER    11 

"  Do  you  promise  to  take  this  wo- 
man for  better  or  for  worse  for  ten 
years  ?"  - 

"Yes — subject,  of  course,  to  re- 
newal of  contract." 

"Do  you  promise  to  love,  honour 
and  obey?" 

"Yes;  up  to  September  20,  1914." 

"I  pronounce  you  man  and  wife. 
Let  no  man  put  asunder  in  the  mean- 
time." 

CHAPTER    III 

(Ten  years  later) 

"Well,  Albert,  your  ten  years  are 
up  to-day.  Do  you  want  an  extension 
of  the  contract?" 

"No,  thanks,  dearest.  I'm  booked 
for  the  next  ten  years  with  Fanny 
Bishop.  Her  contract  with  Charley 
Bishop  expires  soon,  you  know." 

"Why,  of  course.  How  stupid  of 
me  to  forget.  In  that  case  I'll  accept 
Arthur  Bridgeport  for  five  years.  His 
contract  with  Adelaide  is  up  next 
Friday  noon. " 

CHAPTER    IV 

(Five  years  later) 

"Whose  little  boy  are  you  ?" 
"I'm  Uncle  Sam's  little  boy." 
"Where  are  your  parents,  my  lad?" 
"Papa's  doing  six  years    with    the 

387 


late  .Mrs.  Bishop,  and  mamma,  I 
understand,  is  married  at  present  to 
Mr.  Bridg^eport.  Her  contract  expires 
some  time  next  month,  though,  she 
having  failed  to  get  a  renewal. 
Mamma's  getting  old,  you  know." — 
Chicago  Tribune. 


A    GLADSTONE    STORY 

Mr.  Chauncey  Depew  was  break- 
fasting with  Mr.  Gladstone  on  a  cer- 
tain occasion;  a  number  of  other 
distinguished  people  were  present,  and 
the  conversation  turned  on  wealth. 

"*I  understand,  Mr.  Depew,'  said 
Mr.  Gladstone,  'you  have  a  man  in 
your  country  worth  200,000,000  dol- 
lars.' 

"  *  We  have,' said  Mr.  Depew. 

"  '  And  this  money  is  represented 
by  securities  in  railroads,  Govern- 
ment stock  and  other  first-class  invest- 
ments which  could  be  dealt  in  at  any 
moment?' 

"  'That  is  so.' 

"  '  The  owner  of  this  wealth  has 
power  to  provoke  a  panic  and  paralyse 
the  trade  of  several  countries!' 

"  '  He  could,'  said  Mr.  Depew. 
'  But  Mr.  Vanderbilt  is  not  the  kind  of 
man  to  do  that.' 

"  '  Still,'  said  Mr.  Gladstone,  '  it  is 
dangerous  for  one  man  to  possess  so 
much  wealth.  It  ought  to  be  taken 
from  him.' 

"  Mr.  Depew  pointed  out  that  there 
was  a  man  in  England — the  Duke  of 
Westminster — who  was  also  worth 
200,000,000  dollars,  and  wished  to 
know  if  Mr.  Gladstone  would  desire 
that  he  should  be  dispossessed  of  his 
wealth  in  the  same  manner  for  the 
same  reason. 

"'No,'    said    Mr.    Gladstone,    'be- 


388 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


ANDY   CARNEGIE   AT    PLAY 


cause    the    Duke    of    Westminster  is_ 
unable  to  part  with  his  wealth — it  is 
entailed. '  " — Selected. 

H 
ANDY   CARNEGIE 

UNDER  the  title  of  "Our  Boys," 
New  York  Life  is  running  a  series 
of  articles.  Here  is  what  it  says  about 
the  man  who  is  injuring  Canada  by 
presenting  her  with  money  which 
destroys  her  self-respect: 

"This  is  Andy  playing  with  his  gilt 
blocks.  He  loves  to  make  libraries 
out  of  them,  though  Uncle  Sam  says 
sometimes  when  he  comes  in  and 
watches  Andy  playing  with  them,  that 
Andy  is  a  perfect  nuisance.  Andy  always 
has  his  name  printed  on  every  block  so 
they  will  not  be  lost  in  the  shuffle,  and 
Uncle  Sam  is  afraid  that  this  is  be- 
cause Andy  is  too  forward,  but  then 
Uncle  Sam  doesn't  know  everything. 

"Andy  loves  to  play  all  kinds  of 
games,  and  when  all  the  other  little  boys 
are  around  he  loves  to  play  horse  with 
them.  Andy  is  also  very  skilful  at  the 
game  Tariff  and  he  has  beaten  his 
Uncle  Sam  at  it  several  times.  Some 
Uncles  would  have  gotten  mad  at  this, 
but  Andy's  Uncle  Sam  didn't  mind  a 
bit,  and  only  patted  Andy  on  the  back. 
Some  of  the  poor  little   boys  and  girls 


who  live  near  Andy  have  thought  he 
was  a  little  snob,  but  that  is  only  be- 
cause they  were  jealous.  If  they 
would  only  read  some  of  Andy's  com- 
positions, they  would  know  that  he  is 
all  right." 

■ 

HIS  RETURN 

He  was  ten  years  old,  and  when  he 
slipped  out  of  the  house  at  daylight  he 
left  a  note  for  his  mother  saying  he 
was  going  West  to  fight  Indians.  A 
discouraging  combination  of  circum- 
stances, in  which  hunger,  weariness 
and  fear  all  played  a  part,  made  him 
think  better  of  it,  and  he  returned  to 
the  parental  roof  at  9.30  p.m.  He 
was  not  received  with  open  arms.  In- 
deed, the  family  met  him  with  cold- 
ness. The  clock  ticked,  his  father's 
newspaper  rattled,  his  big  sister  stud- 
ied obtrusively;  even  his  mother  didn't 
seem  to  care  whether  he  came  back  or 
not.  Nicodemus,  the  cat,  not  being 
in  the  secret,  rose  and  rubbed  his  soft 
side  caressingly  against  the  culprit's 
leg.  He  stooped  to  pet  him,  and  then, 
with  a  last  desperate  attempt  to  start 
the  ball  of  conversation,  he  demanded, 
homesickly:  "  Is  this  the  same  old  cat 
you  had  when  I  went  away?" — Argo- 
naut. 


THE  CARIBOU 

THROUGHOUT  Mr.  Hanbury's 
book  on  the  Northland  of  Canada, 
there  is  much  information  about  the 
caribou,  the  number  of  which  will  prob- 
ably run  into  millions,  incredible  as 
this  may  seem.  There  is,  however, 
difficulty  in  estimating  accurately  their 
habits.     The  author  says  (p.  120): 

"There  is  no  doubt  that  caribou 
migrate.  They  go  south  in  large 
herds  in  the  autumn,  and  north  in  the 
spring.  They  cross  the  country  east 
of  Great  Slave  Lake,  around  Artillery 
Lake,  and  some  distance  east  of  it. 
They  do  not  appear  on  the  main  Ark- 
i-linik   River,    but    between    Aberdeen 


and  Schultz  Lakes  they  pass  with  some 
regularity.  The  migration  takes  place 
on  such  a  large  scale,  and  over  such  a 
wide  tract  of  couptry,  that  it  has  been 
assumed  that  all  caribou  migrate. 
The  fact  seems  to  be  that  the  majority 
of  the  animals  remain  in  the  north 
throughout  the  year.  I  have  myself 
shot  caribou  in  winter  along  the  west 
coast  of  Hudson  Bay,  and  inland  from 
the  Bay;  along  the  north  and  south 
coasts  of  Chesterfield  Inlet;  in  the 
country  north  of  the  head  of  the  Inlet 
as  far  as  Garry  Lake  on  Back's  River. 
I  have  also  killed  them  to  the  north 
and  south  of  Baker,  Aberdeen,  and 
Schultz   Lakes  in   winter,  and  I  know 


A    DEBR    PITFALL   AS    MADE    BY    THE    ESKIMO 

They  di«  a  hole  six  feet  deep,  and  about  it  a  wall  four  feet  high.     The  deer  walk  up  an  easy  slope, 

along  which  has  been  laid  snow  saturated  with  dogs'  urine,  of  which  the  deer  is  fond. 

The  thin  roof  gives  way  and  the  deer  is  trapped 

From  "Sport  and  Travel  m  the  Northland  of  Canada" 

38Q 


390 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


others  who  have  killed  them  in  winter 
in  the  country  about  Wager  River  and 
Repulse  Bay.  On  the  Arctic  coast,  at 
White  Bear  Point,  and  on  Kent  Penin- 
sula and  at  other  places  which  will  be 
mentioned  later,  caribou  are  always  to 
be  found  during  the  winter.  Thus,  I 
think  it  may  be  held  as  proved  that 
very  great  numbers  of  caribou  do  not 
migrate.  In  fact,  if  deer  left  the 
north  in  winter,  the  Eskimo  on  Back's 
River  and  southwards  would  have  to 
leave  it  also,  for  their  food  is  mostly 
deer's  meat,  the  little  musk-ox  meat, 
seal,  and  fish  they  eat  being  scarcely 
worth  considering.  It  is  quite  true 
that  the  animals  which  remain  in  the 
north  frequently  change  their  ground. 
They  wander  about,  but  their  move- 
ments are  not  migratory. 

"The  third  point  to  be  noticed  is, 
that,  while  many  deer  migrate,  the 
course  they  will  take  cannot  be  pre-- 
dicted.  The  Yellow  Knife  and  Dog 
Rib  Indians  and  the  Eskimo  are  care- 
ful observers  of  their  movements,  since 
their  living  mostly  depends  on  the 
passing  herds.  They  often  state  with 
confidence  beforehand  when  and 
where  deer  will  be  found,  but  the  in- 
formation they  give  turns  out  wrong 
as  frequently  as  right,  and  when  they 
are  shown  to  have  been  mistaken, 
they  can  only  say  they  have  never 
known  it  so  before.  The  fact  that 
famine  befalls  both  Indians  and  Eskimo 
through  failure  of  deer  shows  that 
they  do  not  know  the  habits  of  these 
animals." 

Their  lack  of  fear  is  thus  described : 
"With  long  swinging  trot  a  band 
of  deer  would  approach  to  within  three 
hundred  yards  or  so,  and  would  then 
stand  stupidly  staring  at  us  as  we 
passed.  Then  with  an  impudent  snort, 
toss  of  the  head,  and  jump  in  the  air, 
they  would  be  off.  But  their  curiosity 
had  been  aroused,  not  satisfied,  and 
with  a  dancing  trot  they  would  now 
advance  to  within  a  hundred  yards  of 
the  sleighs,  and  then  commence  to 
cross  our  front,  backwards  and  for- 
wards, until  their  tongues  lolled  out, 
and  they  appeared  to  have  enough  of 
the    game.      The    Huskies    showed    a 


laudable    amount    of   self-restraint   on 
these  occasions." 

The  caribou  are  found  as  far  north 
as  Kent  Peninsula,  which  is  almost  an 
Island.  On  June  ist,  in  that  region, 
the  author's  party  shot  seven  bulls  in 
the  morning. 

THE  APPLE  PROBLEM 

A  LARGE  number  of  answers  to  the 
apple  problem  of  last  month  have 
been  received.  The  problem  was  as 
follows  : 

"  Two  women  are  accustomed  to  sell  apples 
on  the  streets,  the  one  giving  three  apples  for 
a  cent  and  the  other  two  for  a  cent.  It 
chanced  one  day  that  one  woman  fell  ill,  and 
handed  over  thirty  apples  to  the  other  to  sell 
for  her.  The  latter  had  thirty  apples  to  start 
with,  and  sold  the  sixty  apples  at  five  for  two 
cents,  receiving  24  cents  in  all.  If  each  wo- 
man had  sold  her  thirty  apples  separately, 
the  price  received  would  have  been  25  cents. 
How  was  the  one  cent  lost?" 

Christina  H.  Hadcock,  Woodstock; 

"Each  woman  has  30  apples  to  sell.  By 
the  time  2nd  woman  sells  '5  apples  for  2  cents* 
10  times,  she  has  sold  all  of  sick  woman's  ap- 
ples at  '3  for  I  ct."  and  only  20  of  her  own  at 
'2  for  I  ct.'  If  she  sells  the  remaining  10  of 
her  own  apples  at  '5  for  2  cts.'  she  will  only 
get  4  cts. ;  but  if  she  had  sold  them  at  her  own 
price,  '2  for  i  ct.,'  she  would  have  got  5  cts. 
Hence  difference  of  i  ct." 

W.  B.  Allison,  Edmonton,  N.W.T.; 
Annie  Thompson,  Queensboro,  Ont. , 
and  E.  S.  Stuart,  Riverside,  N.B. : 

60  apples  sold  at  5  for  2c.,  or  |c.  per  apple. 

If  30  apples  had  been  sold  at  3  for  ic,  or 
y^c.  each,  and  30  apples  had  been  sold  at  2 
for  IC,  or  y^c.  each,  then  the  average  price 
would  be  2  apples  for  ^  +  "^jOr  ^c;  orj^c.  each. 

Difference  i\-f  =  Vi7C.  per  apple,  or  ic.  on 
60  apples. 

Rossland  subscriber,  Rossland,  B.C. : 

The  3  for  i  cent  apples  would  be  at  the 
rate  of  J^  of  a  cent  per  apple,  the  2  for  i  cent 
at  the  rate  of  ^  cent  per  apple,  therefore  5 
apples  (one-half  from  each  woman's  stock) 
would  cost  21-12  cents,  whereas  the  woman 
sold  them  for  2  cents,  thereby  entailing  a  loss 
of  1-12  of  a  cent  on  each  parcel  of  5  apples, 
or  I  cent  on  the  whole  6a  apples  (12  parcels 
of  5  each). 

These  are  the  simplest  solutions. 
Many  of  those  received  were  unneces- 
sarily long  and  complex.  A  year's 
subscription  will  be  given  for  any  such 
curious  problem  suitable  for  this 
column. 


SPECIALISATION 

|0  the  artist,  the  scientist,  the 
man  of  action,  the  danger 
lies  in  specialisation:  the 
man  has  become  absorbed 
in  his  trade;  he  is  no  longer 
a  man,  but  a  tradesman,  whether  his 
trade  be  commerce  or  art  or  philos- 
ophy. He  can  never  be  happy  until 
he  tries  to  be  a  -man  first  of  all,  and 
wears  his  profession  as  lightly  as  he 
would  wear  a  flower  in  his  button- 
hole."— From  "Contentment,"  by  Bliss 
Carman. 


ANOTHER    BOUNTY    DESIRED 

OF  course,  the  habit  of  giving  boun- 
ties must  grow.  If  you  give 
bounties  on  the  production  of  steel 
rails,  steel  wires  and  lead  matte,  why 
not  on  everything? 

This  is  the  question  the  producers 
of  copper  ask.  They  met  in  Rossland 
on  Dec.  9,  and  passed  the  following 
resolution: 

"  l^esolved  that  in  view  of  the  jjreat  disad- 
vantag'es  under  which  pold  and  copper  min- 
ing' is  labourinjif  in  this  province,  and  the  vast 
revenue  derived  from  it  by  the  Dominion  Gov- 
ernment, the  Rossland  Board  of  Trade  do 
take  steps  to  petition  the  Dominion  Govern- 
ment to  g^rant  a  bonus  on  copper  as  they  have 
done  on  lead  and  iron,  and  that  this  board 
shall,  as  a  preliminary  step,  invite  the  co- 
operation of  the  various  boards  of  trade  in 
the  province  with  a  view  to  presenting-  a  unani- 
mous memorial  through  our  representatives 
in  the  Dominion  Parliament." 

Why  not  a  bounty  on  the  production 
of  gold  also;  then  a  bounty  on  the 
production  of  potatoes,  cheese,  petti- 
coats, white  mice  and  scarlet  geran- 
iums ?  Quebec  Province  gives  a  bounty 
on  babies,  and  there  is  some  talk  that 
Mr.  Sifton  is  preparing  a  bill  to  give 
a  bounty  on  children   born  in  the  Ter- 


ritories, the  father  of  ten  good,  strong 
boys  to  be  made  a  Dominion  Senator 
or  an  agent  of  the  Department  of  the 
Interior. 

A  Government  that  gives  bounties 
ought  to  give  them  fairly,  and  only 
when  there  is  some  special,  overwhelm- 
ing reason.  No  such  reason  exists  in 
the  case  of  the  present  iron,  steel  and 
lead  bounties,  and  the  sooner  the  Gov- 
ernment abandons  them  the  more 
trouble  it  will  avoid. 

The  Government  might  bonus  maga- 
zines, of  course,  but  they  don't.  In- 
stead they  allow  United  States  maga- 
zines to  come  in  free  and  charge 
Canadian  printers  twenty-five  percent, 
duty  on  any  United  States  paper  they 
may  import.  This  works  out  as  a  tax 
of  twenty-five  per  cent,  on  Canadian 
periodicals.  A  bounty  of  twenty-five 
per  cent,  instead  of  a  tax  of  twenty- 
five  per  cent,  would  make  the  publishers 
very  wealthy.  But  is  not  that  the 
design  of  all  bonuses  ? 


STREET  RAILWAY  PROFITS 

TORONTO  is  a  large  city  and  gets 
over  $500  a  day  from  its  street 
railway. 

Ottawa  is  a  small  city  and  it  would 
like  to  have  a  similar  percentage  of 
profit,  but  its  early  rulers  \vt  re  not  so 
wise  as  were  those  of  Toronto.  The 
profits  of  the  Ottawa  railway  were 
$94,500  in  1903,  and  about  $100,000 
in  1904.  The  capital  of  the  company 
(including  probably  a  little  water)  is 
one  million  dollars.  If  Ottawa  could 
buy  the  system  for  that  amount,  and 
borrow  the  money  at  4  per  cent.,  the 
annual  net  profit  to  the  city  would  be 
S6o,ooo.  But  Ottawa  does  not  want 
to  buy  the  railway  just  now,  for  the 


392 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


simple   reason    that    Ottawa   distrusts 
its  civic  rulers. 

THE   NEW   LONDON 

[The  majority  of  names  in  the  new  London 
Directory  begin  with  Mac] 

I  WEEP  for  London's  vanished  pride, 
I  weep  for  London  Scotified, 

Tear    hair,     wring:    hands    and   knock 
knees; 
Dim  are  my  eyes,  yet  I  can  see 
My  fellow-citizens  will  be 
Soon  nothing-  but  MacCockneys. 

Our  native  tongue  we'll  mend  or  end 
And  speak  a  Gaelic-Cockney  blend, 

Kail-brose  serve  for  our  feeding, 
And  we  will  don  plaid,  kilt,  etcet — 
No,  no!  unless  I  quite  forget, 

"  Etcetera"  were  misleading. 

Our  sport  shall  be  hop-scotch  alone, 
Bagpipes  in  every  street  shall  drone 
(This  chief  cause  of  my  groans  is), 
And  we  shall  hold  as  idle  myths 
That  this  was  erst  the  home  oi  Smiths 
And  Robinsons  and  Joneses. 

M.   S.   in  London   Chronicle. 


RECIPROCITY 

CAMPBELL  SHAW,  of  Buffalo, 
formerly  chairman  of  the  Na- 
tional Committee  on  Reciprocity  with 
Canada,  proposes  a  new  policy,  which 
is  as  follows: 

PROPOSED   NEW    POLICY 

1.  That  a  joint  commission  be  established 
for  the  purpose  of  instituting  and  developing 
a  community-of-interests  policy  for  that  por- 
tion of  the  continent  embracing  the  United 
States  and  Canada. 

2.  That  the  measures  agreed  upon  by  the 
joint  commission  be  carried  out  by  concurrent 
legislation. 

3.  That  the  joint  commission  be  empowered 
to  arrange  for  a  gradual  reduction  each  suc- 
ceeding year  of  duties  upon  natural  products, 
until  all  natural  products  are  on  the  free  list. 

4.  That  the  joint  commission  arrange  for 
an  agreement  upon  the  following  matters: 

The  bonding  privilege  to  be  assured,  and 
simplified  to  prevent  delays. 

Protection  of  fisheries  on  Atlantic  and  Pa- 
cific coasts  and  in  waters  of  common  fron- 
tiers. 

Protection  of  sealing  industry  in  Pacific 
waters. 

Abolition  of  Alien  Labour  Law. 

Mining  rights  to  aliens. 

Right  to  construct  naval  vessels  on  the 
Great  Lakes  for  use  on  the  seas. 

Maintenance  of  deep  water  in  the  Great 
Lakes'  route  to  the  seaboard. 


Wrecking  and  salvage  rights  in  common,- 
Conveying    prisoners    across    over-border 
territory. 

Better    marking  of    border    where    insuffi- 
ciently defined. 

Readers  will  please  notice  that  the 
pill  is  sugared. 

Jft 

A   SCHOOL   OF    COLONIAL    HISTORY 

ONE  piece  of  munificence  often  be- 
gets another,  and  the  institution 
of  "  Rhodes  scholars  "  at  Oxford  has 
now  led  to  the  endowment  of  a  school 
of  Colonial  History  there  by  Mr.  Beit, 
says  the  London  Chronicle.  The  en- 
dowment, which  is  to  cost  £1,310  a 
year,  provides  for  a  resident  professor, 
assistant  lecturers,  a  prize  for  an 
annual  essay,  and  the  purchase  of 
books.  Wisely  administered,  it  will  be 
the  means  of  establishing  a  most  valu- 
able School  of  Colonial  History.  It  is 
badly  needed.  Mr.  Beit,  in  his  letter 
to  the  Vice-Chancellor,  speaks  of  the 
need  being  especially  great  "amongst 
those  who,  under  the  provisions  of  Mr. 
Rhodes's  will,  come  to  Oxford  from 
all  parts  of  the  Empire."  Certainly  it 
is  only  proper  that  Colonial  students 
coming  to  a  British  University  should 
have  the  means  of  studying  Colonial 
history.  But  this  is  a  branch  of 
knowledge  which  might  be  extended, 
even  more  usefully,  among  English 
students.  The  average  Englishman's 
ignorance  of  Colonial  history  is,  we 
fear,  extensive  and  peculiar;  it  is  prob- 
ably surpassed  only  by  his  ignorance 
of  Colonial  geography. 


NEW   COMMERCIAL   COURSE 

THE  University  Council  of  Mani- 
toba University  has  decided  to 
add  a  commercial  department  as  a 
regular  course  of  study.  A  special 
committee  had  been  appointed  to  in- 
vestigate, and  recommended  this  course 
of  action.  The  scheme  is  to  have  a 
two  years'  course  in  commercial  law, 
banking,  political  economy,  and  to 
grant  diplomas  to  successful  students. 
Winnipeg  believes  in  education,  prac- 
tical, varied  and  adequate. 


pi 


,  METROP^lfVAW       ..    r^i*- 
^TORONTO    '^-  ••>•     *     ' 
•LIBRARY 


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ikirikiiii^  M4W  2G& '  ! 


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THE 


CANADIAN  Magazine 


VOL.   XXIV 


TORONTO,    MARCH,    1905 


No.   5 


THE  CORNWALL  CANAL  CONTRACT 

By  NORMAN  PA  TTERSON 


HERE  are  few  people  who 
have  ever  considered  the 
responsibility  of  the  Do- 
minion Cabinet  as  a  spender 
of  money.  There  are  four- 
teen ministers  with  portfolios  in  that 
body,  and  each  spends  on  an  averag^e 
more  than  four  million  dollars  a  year. 
In  the  year  ending  June  30th,  1903, 
the  Dominion  Government  spent  in  the 
ordinary  way  $51,691,000,  and  con- 
tracted debts  for  several  million  dol- 
lars' worth  of  expenditures  which  are 
said  to  be  "  on  capital  account."  In 
addition  there  were  some  "Special" 
items,  which  brought  the  total  expend- 
iture for  the  year  to  861,746,000. 
To  spend  four  and  a  half  million  dol- 
lars a  year,  and  get  good  value  for  it, 
is  what  is  demanded  of  the  average 
cabinet  minister  at  Ottawa.  Some 
have  more  to  spend 
than  others,  but  as 
the  responsibility 
for  the  whole  ex- 
penditure rests  on 
the  cabinet  as  a 
whole,  the  respon- 
sibility may  be  di- 
vided evenly  for  the 
sake  of  argument. 
To  successfully 
spend  this  amount 
of  money  each  year 
requires  a  consider- 
able business  know- 
ledge, a  keen  intel- 
lect and  much 
sturdy  com  mon- 
sense.  The  specu- 
lative question 
might  be  framed,  cornwa 

In 


"If  there  were  fourteen  companies  at 
Ottawa,  each  having  four  and  a  half 
million  dollars  to  spend  each  year, 
would  they  select  the  present  fourteen 
cabinet  ministers  as  the  best  men  for  the 
fourteen  positions  ?"  This  question  is 
not  framed  to  throw  any  discredit  upon 
those  fourteen  gentlemen,  but  simply  to 
show  the  grave  business  responsibility 
which  each  must  annually  undertake. 

A   MINISTERS  TROUBLES 

Neither  is  it  possible  for  any  one  of 
these  ministers  to  devote  his  whole 
time  to  this  work.  The  collecting  of 
this  amount  of  money,  the  considera- 
tion of  a  great  deal  of  necessary  legis- 
lation both  publicandprivate,  the  listen- 
ing to  interviewers  of  all  sorts  and 
conditions,  the  attention  required  of 
each  as   one  of  the  leaders  oi  a  great 


LL   CANAL — A    LOCK    FLLL   OF    WATER 
Uie  distance,  an  open  draw-bridse 


396 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


HON.    JAMES   SITHERLAND 

Acting  Minister  of  Railways  and  Canals  in  1900,  now  Minister  of 
Public  Works 


political  party  which  must  consider  its 
future  in  the  constituencies,  the  in- 
forming the  representatives  of  that 
party  in  parliament  as  to  the  advisabil- 
ity of  certain  courses  decided  upon  in 
the  interest  of  the  party  and  the  coun- 
try— all  these  elements  of  cabinet  min- 
sters' duties  make  inroads  upon  his 
time  and  his  energy. 

Of  course  each  receives  some  assist- 
ance from  the  permanent  officers  in  his 
department,  and  from  his  colleagues 
and  fellow-members.  He  gets  advice 
from  the  Opposition  and  from  the  peo- 
ple interested  in  the  spending  of  the 
money  in  the  constituencies.  Never- 
theless, it  would  be  wonderful  if  there 
were  no  mistakes.  These  men  would 
be  more  than  human  if  they  did  not 
occasionally  %o  wrong,  if  they  did  not 
now  and  again  spend  a  few  hundred 
thousand  dollars  unwisely,  if  they  did 


not  once  in  a  while  make  an 
improvident  bargain. 

Perhaps  the  most  improv- 
ident bargains  made  by  the 
Cabinet  are  those  in  connec- 
tion with  the  Public  Works 
and  Railways  and  Canals 
departments.  In  these  two 
are  the  annual  expenditures 
greatest.  Last  year  the 
Public  Works  spent  about 
seven  millions  of  dollars, 
and  the  Department  of 
Railways  and  Canals  about 
five  millions.  Two  ministers 
are  primarily  responsible  for 
twelve  millions  of  expendi- 
ture, which  is  distributed 
throughout  the  whole  ot 
Canada.  The  difficulties  are 
enormous. 

.AX   IMPROVIDKNT  B.-^R- 
GAIN 

One  of  the  most  notable 
examples  of  an  improvident 
contract  made  by  a  depart- 
ment is  that  known  as  the 
Cornwall  Canal  Lighting 
and  Power  Contract,  where- 
by nearly  a  million  of  dol- 
lars would  have  been  use- 
lessly paid  by  the  Dominion 
Government  had  there  been 
no  Auditor-General.  The  main  facts 
are  simple. 

In  1896,  some  time  previous  to  a 
general  election,  the  Hon.  John  Hag- 
gart.  Minister  of  Railways  and  Canals, 
made  a  lease  with  a  contractor  by  the 
name  of  M.  P.  Davis,  giving  him  the 
right  to  use  the  water-power  of  the 
Cornwall  Canal  at  a  certain  point  for 
$1,000  a  year  lor  eighty-four  years. 
The  Governmenthad  already builta  dam 
there  in  order  to  increase  the  water  in 
this  portion  of  the  river  and  the  canal, 
so  that  there  was  good  reason  why  a  fair 
rental  should  be  paid.  At  the  same 
time  it  was  agreed  that  Mr.  Davis 
should  supply  power  at  the  rate  of  $63 
per  horse-power  per  year  for  such 
quantity  as  the  Government  might  re- 
quire, and  electric  lights  at  the  rate  of 
$109.50  per  arc  light  of  2,000  candle 
power  to  the   number   required  by  the 


CORN IV ALL  CAXAL 


401 


CORNWALL — BY- WASH,    LOCK    1 8,   AND  TAIL-RACE   FROM   TORONTO   PAPER  CO.    MILLS 

Photograph  by  F.  Bisset 


cently  made  a  Minister  of  the  Crown 
and  designated  "  Honourable."  Mr. 
Aylesworth  at  first  told  Mr.  Mc- 
Dougall  that  Mr.  Schreiber  was  right, 
and  that,  so  far  as  he  could  see,  the 
money  must  be  paid.  Given  more 
data  to  work  on,  Mr.  Aylesworth  got 
new  light,  and  thought  **it  would  seem 
reasonably  clear  that  payment  was  to 
be  made  only  in  respect  of  each  night 
during  which  light  was  required  and 
supplied." 

This  was  defeat  number  one  for 
the  deputy  and  victory  for  Mr.  Mc- 
Dougail. 

It  only  remains  to  be  said  that  later 
on  Mr.  .Aylesworth  rescinded  his  opin- 
ion and  decided  that  the  contractor 
could  collect  for  250  lights  whether  he 
supplied  them  or  not.  The  Govern- 
ment, however,  took  the  matter  up 
and  arranged  a  compromise  with  the 
contractor,  and  paid  him  only  for  the 
lights  actually  supplied  between  Oct. 
-:4th,  1901,  and  Nov.  30th,  1902;  for  100 
lights  between  Nov.  30th,  1902,  and 
March  31st,  1903,  and  for  the  actual 
lights  supplied  between  March  13th, 
1903,  and  June  30th,  1903.  After  that 
date  Mr.  Davis  was  to  be  paid  for 
100  lights  for  four  months  and  250 
lights  for  eight  months,   in  each  year. 

Let  us  examine  another  of  Mr. 
Schreiber's  remarkable  contentions,  so 


that  the  public  may  have  still  further 
proof  of  this  gentleman's  competence, 
efficiency  and  public  spirit.  This  time 
it  is  a  question  between  him  and  the 
secretary  of  his  department,  to  whom 
he  addresses  a  report  on  Aug.  25th, 
1902,  and  which  is  signed  **Col- 
lingwood  Schreiber,  C.E."*  The 
question  was  whether  the  provision 
that  the  contractor  should  supply 
400  horse-power  of  electrical  energy 
at  $63  per  horse-power  was  just  and 
necessary.  There  were  two  doubts  in 
the  mind  of  the  Auditor-General:  i. 
That  400  h.p.  were  required;  2.  That 
the  price  was  reasonable.  These  two 
doubts  have  since  been  confirmed. 
Yet  the  deputy  sought  to  justify  what 
has  been  proven  to  be  an  extrav- 
agant contract.  His  letter  gives  the 
following  statement: 

On   the  above  basis  the  following  would 
be  the  apportionment  of  power: — 

No.    Total 

H.P.     H.P. 

New  canal,  lock  and  g^uard  grates. .26x4     104 

Old  canal,  lock  grates 20x4       80 

New  canal,  sluice  gates  or  valves.. 26x1  26 
Old  canal,  sluice  gates  or  valves. . .  20x1  20 
6  weirs  (66  ojjenings)..  ....   66xi       ^^ 

Bridges 1x3  \ 

1x2  /      •* 
New  canal,  winches  to  help  vessels 

through  locks 6x6       .^6 

♦This  report  will  be  found  in  the  Auditor- 
General's  Report,  1902-1903,  pp.  i2  and  33. 


402 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


No.  Total 
_,  .  H.P.    H.P. 

Old  canal,  winches  to  help  vessels 

through  lock 5x6       30 

Workshops,  serving  both  Cornwall 

and  Williamsburg  canals 60 

394 
Six  per  cent,  for  loss  of  power  be- 
tween generator  and  motors  . .  22> 

Total  horse-powers  delivered 417 

To  state  it  in  another  way: 

The  New  Canal  required 168  h. p. 

The  Old  Canal  required 100  h.p. 

The  winches  required 66  h.p. 

The  workshops  required 60  h.p. 

Loss  in  transmission 23  h.p. 

4'7 

Now,  Mr.  Schreiber  must  have 
known  that  the  Old  Canal  was  not 
used  at  all,  that  it  was  likely  to  be 
used  only  in  case  of  a  break  in  the 
new  canal,  and  that  the  100  horse- 
power at  $63  per  year  to  operate  a 
canal  not  in  use  would  be  robbery  pure 
and  simple.  It  would  be  $63.00  a 
year,  or  $529,000  in  eighty-four  years, 
almost  thrown  away. 

Further,  when  Mr.  Schreiber  made 
that  estimate,  he  knew  that  the 
winches  were  not  installed,  and  were 
not  likely  to  be  for  some  time,  if  at  all; 
that  no  power  was  required  for  them. 
Yet  he  puts  in  66  h.p.  more.  He  is 
willing  that  the  country  should  pay  for 
166  h.p.  at  $63  per  h.p.,  which  was 
not  required.  These  two  items  would 
amount  to  $878,472.  If  all  public 
servants  are  like  Mr.  Schreiber,  the 
public  service  must  be  in  a  bad  way. 

THE   LAST   STRAW 

The  deputy  also  went  further.  He 
allowed  an  account  to  be  sent  to  the 
Auditor-General,  asking  him  to  pay 
for  400  h.p.  for  eleven  months,  before 
energy  had  ever  been  applied,  and  while 
the  canal  was  still  being  operated  by 
hand.  In  other  words,  he  desired 
the  Auditor-General  to  make  the  con- 
tractor a  present  of  some  $25,000. 
Mr.  Schreiber's  generosity  is  wonder- 
ful. 

On  the  other  hand,  the  reasonable 
view  of  the  Auditor-General  is  ex- 
pressed in  his  letter  of  September  29th, 


about   a  month  after    Mr.    Schreiber's 
estimate  of  417  h.p.  "delivered": 

"  The  letter  of  the  chief  engineer  does  not 
touch  the  question  raised  by  me.  An  appli- 
cation has  been  made  to  me  to  pay  for  400 
horse-power  at  $63  per  horse-power  per  an- 
num, to  run  from  October  24th  last,  over  1 1 
months  now,  while  there  has  not  as  yet  been 
the  application  of  any  electrical  energy  what- 
ever for  any  Government  purposes  anywhere 
on  the  Cornwall  canal.  I  raise  no  objection 
to  the  payment  for  the  electrical  energy  when 
we  get  the  use  of  it.  It  was  provided  under 
the  contract  of  1896  that  the  Government  was 
to  pay  for  only  what  it  got,  and  there  was  no 
necessity  to  make  a  new  and  highly  unfavour- 
able agreement  with  Mr.  Davis  for  electrical 
energy." 

And  how  was  this  point  settled? 
The  answer  is  in  the  compromise 
agreement  made  between thecontractor 
and  the  Government  nearly  a  year 
later,  when  the  account  was  reduced 
to  125  h.p.  from  installation  in  Octo- 
ber, 1 90 1,  to  July,  1903.  That  is,  in- 
stead of  paying  the  contractor  $42,- 
000,  the  Government  settled  for  $13,- 
125  (approximately). 

THE  THIRD  CONTRACT 
As  a  consequence  of  the  protests  of 
the  Auditor-General,  and  the  recom- 
mendation of  three  experts  who  invest- 
igated the  subject,  the  Government 
did  make  a  new  contract  for  the  sup- 
ply of  both  electric  power  and  light. 
Instead  of  agreeing  to  pay  for  400 
horse-power  per  annum,  they  are  to 
pay  for  about  125  h.p.,  "until  the 
present  installation  is  added  to  or  in- 
creased upon  the  written  requisition  of 
the  Chief  Engineer."  Instead  of 
agreeing  to  pay  for  250  lights  per 
night  whether  used  or  not,  it  is  agreed 
to  pay  for  100  lights  for  four  months 
and  250  lights  for  eight  months.  Un- 
der this  contract,  though  still  liberal  to 
Mr.  Davis,  the  country  saves  about 
half  a  million  of  dollars. 

Had  Mr.  Schreiber  been  as  earnest 
and  as  competent  —  one  is  almost 
tempted  to  add  as  honest — as  Mr. 
McDougall,  he  might  have  prevented 
this  extravagant  contract  ever  being 
made.  He  was  deputy-minister  when 
the  first  contract  was  made  by  the 
Hon.  Mr.  Haggart;  he  was  still  in  that 
important  position  when  the  new  con- 


CORNWALL  CAXAL 


403 


tract  was  made  by  the  Hon.  Mr.  Suth- 
erland. He  must  have  known  that  the 
contract  was  extravagant  and  that 
the  country  would  lose  a  million  dol- 
lars in  this  way.  We  have  no  evidence 
that  he  raised  a  finger  to  prevent  it. 
In  fact,  there  is  no  evidence  to  show 
that  it  was  done  on  other  than  his  ad- 
vice. Neither  Mr.  Haggart  nor  Mr. 
Sutherland  were  engineers  or  electrical 
experts,  and  they  must  have  been  rely- 
ing on  some  person's  advice.  If  it 
was  on  the  advice  of  Mr.  Schreiber, 
then  it  is  time  that  the  country  de- 
manded a  settlement  with  that  gentle- 
man. If  it  was  done  against  his  advice, 
then  the  circumstances  should  be  made 
known  in  order  that  the  current  sus- 
picions shall  be  allayed. 

SOME  OTHER  OBSERV.ATIONS 
A  most  peculiar  incident  in  connec- 
tion with  this  canal  question  occurred 
in  the  House  of  Commons  on  July 
13th,  during  the  debate  on  this  sub- 
ject. Mr.  Reid,  of  .Addington,  got  up 
to  make  a  speech.  He  apparently  did 
not  know  much  about  his  subject,  and 
it  is  doubtful  if  he  or  any  other  mem- 
ber of  the  Opposition  even  took  the 
trouble  to  go  over  the  canal  and  try  to 
see  things  for  themselves,  as  the 
Auditor-General  did.  Well,  Mr.  Reid 
had  hardly  got  started  when  he  made 
the  statement  that  the  Soulanges  canal 
is  about  the  same  length  and  has  the 
same  number  ot  locks  as  the  Cornwall 
Canal.  The  following  is  the  ensuing 
dialogue,  as  given  in  Hansard: 

Mr.  J.  D.  Reid.  The  .-Vuditor-General 
states  that  ihe  Cornwall  canal  has  seven 
locks  and  two  bridges  and  the  Soulanges 
canal  six  locks  and  seven  bridges. 

Mr.  Fitzpatrick.  My  hon.  friend  would 
be  amazed  to  hear  that  on  the  Cornwall  canal 
there  are  eleven  locks  and  on  the  Soulanges 
canal   there  are  four  locks,  according  to  the 


certificate  of  the  chief  engineer  of  govern- 
ment railways,  dated  on  the  2nd  July,  1904. 

Mr.  J.  D.  Reid.  Perhaps  that  may  be 
right,  but  I  quoted  from  the  official  record. 

Mr.  Fitzpatrick.  Xot  from  the  official 
record;  you  are  taking  it  from  the  Auditor- 
General's  Report. 

Mr.  J.  D.  Reid.  I  do  not  know  that  the 
•Auditor-General  is  trying  to  mislead  us. 

Mr.   Fitzpatrick.     Oh.  I  do  not  think  so, 

Mr.  Reid  left  this  point  and  tried 
another  line,  but  Mr.  Fitzpatrick  con- 
tinued his  tactics,  with  the  result  that 
Mr.  Reid  sat  down  disgusted.  It  was 
good  punishment  for  him,  because 
there  is  too  much  talking  in  the  House 
by  members  who  are  either  indolent  or 
incompetent,  or  both. 

The  explanation  is  this.  There  are 
eleven  locks  on  the  Cornwall  CanaU 
but  six  are  on  the  new  canal  and  five 
are  on  the  old  canal,  the  latter,  of 
course,  not  being  used.  If  Mr.  Reid 
had  known  the  details  of  the  subject 
on  which  he  essayed  to  speak,  he 
could  easily  have  countered  on  that 
clever  gentleman  who  is  supposed  to 
administer  justice  to  Canadians.  The 
explanation  as  to  the  number  of  locks 
on  the  Soulanges  Canal  is  equally  sim- 
ple. Mr.  Fitzpatrick  succeeded  in 
making  Mr.  Reid  look  foolish,  and  the 
member  for  a  St.  Lawrence  constit- 
uency sat  down  in  a  decided  mental 
mess. 

The  failure  of  both  parties  to  thor- 
oughly sift  this  matter  to  the  bottom 
is  a  grave  reflection  on  the  honesty 
and  integrity  of  the  House  of  Com- 
mons. It  was  especially  the  duty  of 
the  Conservative  leader,  Mr.  R.  L. 
Borden,  to  insist  on  an  investigation. 
That  he  did  not  do  so  may  account  in 
some  measure  for  the  recent  lack  of 
confidence  in  him  shown  by  the  electors 
at  large. 


THE  JUNIOR  TART 


nUQCfTT-  n^DCAN  -JOnNSTON 


L 


.m:   ^        ''iw»a  IIP'!'!l;l!'!i!IH!;lll 


HE  MAKES  AN  ESTIMATE  ON  MATERIALS  AND  MEN 


ONGER  slashed  viciously  at 

the  Slick  he  was  whittling. 

"  I  don't  see  why  the  old 

man  should  feel  like  that," 

said  he. 

"  Well,  he  does,  an'  that's  all  there 
is  about  it,"  replied  Haliburton  short- 
ly. "  Murphy's  got  no  use  for  any 
one  that's  sharp  enough  to  beat  him. 
Seein'  I  fixed  things  so  as  I  could  dic- 
tate terms  and  make  him  hand  me  over 
a  partnership  maybe  gives. him  a  sort 
o'  respect  for  me;  but  it  doesn't  make 
him  like  me  any  better.  The  only 
difference  is,  he  realises  now  that  the 
dog  is  liable  to  bite  and  watches  me  a 
little  closer." 

"Watches  you?  How  do  you  mean?" 

"Watches  me  almost  as  if  I  was 
tryin'  to  carry  off  stuff  from  the  job. 
He's  always  slinkin'  'round  when  I'm 
buyin'  anythin'.  Probably  makin'  cer- 
tain that  I  don't  try  any  little  deals  on 
the  side,  and  go  graftin'  for  commis- 
sions. He  doesn't  say  anythin',  but  I 
know  darn  well  what  he  means." 

"  He  used  to  be  all  right  with  you?" 
questioned  Fonger. 

"Sure,"  assented  the  superintend- 
ent; "until  he  commenced  to  think 
that  I  was  runnin'  the  whole  thing,  an' 
then  he  got  jealous.  He's  mighty 
careful  now  who  he  introduces  me  to. 
If  he  finds  me  talkin'  to  any  friends  o' 
his  he  slides  into  the  conversation 
pretty  quick  an'  walks  the  feller  off 
with  him." 

Though  of  a  sanguine  disposition 
and  not  easily  cast  down,  Haliburton 
was  having  his  troubles.  Deeply  jeal- 
ous of  the  use  the  superintendent  had 
made  of  the  opportunities  that  he  him- 


self had  cast  in  his  way.  Murphy  would 
like  to  have  undone  his  recent  actions. 
A  partner,  he  felt,  was  by  no  means  a 
necessity  to  him;  and  had  it  not  been 
that  Haliburton  had  held  the  whip- 
hand  in  the  purchase  of  supplies,  he 
would  never  have  had  anything  to  do 
with  him.  Now  that  that  difficulty 
was  safely  over,  he  would  gladly  have 
dispensed  with  the  superintendent's 
services  had  a  reasonable  opportunity 
presented  itself.  Profits  made  a  larger 
pile  all  in  one  man's  pocket  than  if 
divided  between  two. 

So  matters  ran  along  until  early  in 
March.  Then  they  showed  signs  of 
culmination  in  the  letting  of  the  pier 
foundations  for  the  Ridout  Bridge. 
Murphy  felt  confident  of  securing  the 
contract.  Not  only  did  he  have  a 
stand  in  with  the  powers,  but,  as  well, 
he  was  in  a  position  to  put  in  a  low 
bid.  The  bridge  being  located  on  the 
Aux  Sable  River,  a  mere  twenty-five 
miles  below  where  the  Gore  Valley 
Viaduct  crossed  it,  it  would  not  cost 
him  much  to  transport  his  plant  there. 
As  soon  as  the  Viaduct  was  finished 
he  could  float  the  equipment  down 
stream,  and  almost  the  very  next  day 
be  in  perfect  shape  to  begm  work  on 
the  other  job. 

Then  he  received  an  unexpected 
check. 

Hearing  of  the  contractor's  plans, 
Haliburton  brought  up  the  subject. 

"  They  tell  me  you're  calculatin'  to 
build  the  Ridout  Bridge,"  said  he  non- 
chalantly. 

"  I  was  thinking  perhaps  I  might 
bid  on  it,"  replied  Murphy,  not  com- 
mitting himself. 


THE  JUNIOR  PARTNER 


405 


"That's  the  same  as  sayin'  we'll 
take  it,"  commented  Haliburton. 
"Ours  is  the  only  equipment  in  this 
section  o'  the  country  that's  suited  to 
that  kind  o'  work;  an'  even  if  there 
was  another,  it  couldn't  be  got  there 
as  cheap  as  this  one." 

Murphy  noticed  the  "we"  and  "ours." 

"  1  hadn't  figgered 
on  Murphy  &  Halibur- 
ton doing  the  work," 
said  he  dryly.  "  My 
idea  was  that  John  C. 
Murphy  would  be  able 
to  handle  this  job  by 
himself." 

Haliburton  crossed 
his  legs  and  settled 
himself  deeper  into  his 
chair.  "I  guess  not," 
he  replied.  "  As  a 
member  of  the  firm 
that's  buildin'  the  Gore 
Valley  Viaduct,  I've 
got  an  interest  in  this 
here  plant.  If  any  bid- 
din's  to  be  done,  we'll 
both  have  a  finger  in 
the  pie." 

"What'U  you  take 
for  your  interest?" 
questioned  Murphy 
hotly,  very  red  in  the 
face.  "Considering 
that  I  gave  it  to  you 
for  nothing,  it's  a 
pretty  high-handed 
proceeding  asking  me 
to  buy  it  back  ;  but 
rather  than  have  any 
feelings  about  it,  I'll 
give  you  something  if 
you  will  make  it  reas- 
onable." 

Haliburton  laughed 
at  him. 

"  Gave  it  to  me!"  he  snickered  be- 
tween bursts  of  mirth.  "  Yes  you  did 
— not!  It's  a  lot  you'd  ever  give  any 
one.  You  gave  it  to  me  because  you 
couldn't  have  made  a  red  cent  on  it 
unless  you  took  me  in.  But  my  share 
ain't  for  sale.  I'm  not  thinkin'  o'  re- 
tirin'  just  yet." 

"  You'll  have  to  sell,"  cried  Murphy, 


losing  his  temper;  "  I'm  not  going  to 
bid  with  you.  Anyway,  the  big  end 
of  the  thing  is  mine." 

"That  may  be;  but  even  if  I  only 
owned  a  dollar's  worth  I'd  want  my 
percentage  on  it,"  retorted  the  other. 
"  However,  if  you  don't  bid  with  me 
you'll   have  to  bid   against  me.      I've 


"  I  g^uess  he's  }fOl  me  skinned  ii;i- 

DRAWN    BY   HAKOLD   r^KI 


got  a  footing  in  the  contracting  busi- 
ness now  an'  it'll  not  be  hard  for  me 
to  get  backing." 

Murphy  knew  that  Haliburton  was 
talking  facts  and  this  was  presenting 
a  new  phase  of  the  matter.  It  would 
never  do  to  bid  against  each  other.  If 
it  came  to  that,  each  would  act  on  the 
assumption  that   it   would   be  possible 


4o6 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


to  buy  out  the  other's  interest  in  the 
plant  once  the  contract  was  secured. 
The  probabilities  would  be  that  prices 
might  be  cut  so  low  as  to  spoil  a  good 
thing  completely. 

Murphy  knew  a  better  way.  After 
some  fifteen  minutes  spent  in  wrang- 
ling over  the  thing  he  gave  in. 

"AH  right,  then,"  he  assented. 
"  Whatever  we  do,  we  can't  afford  to 
cut  the  prices.  The  best  thing  we  can 
do  will  be  to  tackle  it  together." 

Something  in  the  contractor's  man- 
ner made  Haliburton  suspicious;  but 
this  was  not  a  time  for  hesitation  and 
he  offered  no  remark. 

The  bids  were  to  be  opened  on  the 
first  Monday  in  April  at  ten  o'clock  in 
the  morning.  Late  the  preceding 
Saturday  afternoon  Murphy  and  Hali- 
burton met  to  arrange  their  estimate. 

"  We  can  do  the  job  and  make,  a 
big  profit  at  about  what  it  'ud  cost  any 
one  else,"  observed  Haliburton  after 
he  had  glanced  through  the  specifica- 
tions. "This  havin'  your  plant  right 
on  the  ground  counts,  I  tell  you." 

Murphy  grunted.  Unobserved  by 
Haliburton  he  was  making  a  copy  of 
the  figures  upon  which  they  had 
agreed. 

"  I'll  get  down  early  and  arrange 
about  the  security  bonds,"  Haliburton 
remarked  as  he  locked  the  office  door. 

"  Sure!"  Murphy  thrust  his  tongue 
into  his  cheek. 

The  following  Sunday,  Haliburton 
spent  the  afternoon  out  on  the  work 
nosing  around  among  the  boiler-houses 
and  lumber  piles.  When  he  went 
back  to  his  boarding-house  at  six 
o'clock  he  found  a  note  awaiting  him, 
the  address  in  Murphy's  handwriting. 
With  a  premonition  of  coming  evil  he 
ripped  the  end  off  the  envelope.  It 
was  short  to  the  verge  of  curtness. 

I  have  decided  that  it  will  be  best 
for  me  to  bid  alone  to-morrow. 

Murphy. 

That  was  all. 

Mechanically,  Haliburton  put  up  his 
hand  and  shoved  his  hair  back  off  his 
forehead.  It  was  a  body  blow.  He 
felt  as  if  he  were  standing  on  the  edge 


ot    the    world    looking  over    into  an 
abyss, 

"The  old  rogue!"  he  muttered,  re- 
covering his  breath  and  his  vocabulary 
at  the  same  time.  "  Waited  till  the 
last  minute,  so  I'd  have  no  time  to 
arrange  for  backing  to  bid  again'  him. 
Knows  my  estimated  costs,  too,  an* 
just  about  what  my  figger  'ud  be  in 
case  I  did  manage  to  get  in.  He's  a 
shrewd  fox!  I  guess  he's  got  me 
skinned  this  time  all  right." 

The  following  morning  the  superin- 
tendent went  into  the  city  to  see  the 
bids  opened.  As  he  had  anticipated, 
the  contract  was  awarded  to  Murphy. 
He  made  no  protest:  he  felt  there  was 
little  use  in  crying  over  spilled  milk. 

"  Swamped  me  pretty  bad,  didn't 
you,"  said  he  to  Murphy,  meeting  him 
in  the  elevator.  "  Still,  it  might  have 
been  worse.  I  suppose  that  you  want 
to  buy  my  share  o'  the  plant  now." 

A  deal  was  effected  at  the  original 
cost,  less  ten  per  cent,  for  wear  and 
tear. 

Haliburton  said  little  about  the  un- 
fair advantage  the  contractor  had 
taken  of  him.  The  stock-clerk  was 
the  only  person  to  whom  he  men- 
tioned it. 

"By  Jove,  Fonger,"  said  he  one 
morning  in  an  outburst  of  anger  as  he 
thought  of  the  trick  that  had  been 
played  him,  "  I  ain't  much  on  beefing 
if  a  man  hits  me  in  the  wind  when  I'm 
not  lookin';  I'm  supposed  to  be  able 
to  look  out  for  that.  But  I  usually 
give  two  back.  I'll  make  Murphy 
sweat  for  this  yet;  you  just  watch  my 
smoke." 

Murphy  was  having  a  tremendous 
run  of  luck.  Within  a  fortnight  after 
he  landed  the  Ridout  Bridge  he  caught 
two  other  large  jobs  and  one  smaller 
one.  That  put  four  jobs  on  his  hands 
all  at  once.  He  regretted  then  that  he 
had  broken  with  Haliburton — that  his 
steady  hand  was  not  to  guide  the  work 
on  the  Bridge.  Unfortunately,  the 
time-limits  on  the  contracts  made  it 
imperative  that  they  all  be  pushed  at 
once.  Nor  was  it  only  a  question  of 
securing  capable  men  to  look  after  the 
work.     To  keep  three  large  contracts 


THE  JUNIOR  PARTNER 


407 


going  from  one  month's  end  to  an- 
oiher  until  the  regular  estimates  came 
in  required  no  inconsiderable  amount 
of  capital. 

Thinking  the  matter  over,  he  re- 
solved to  send  for  Haliburton. 

When  the  superintendent  arrived, 
Murphy  was  the  soul  of  hospitality. 
He  shoved  the  door  shut  and  drew  up 
his  chair  so  that  they  could  talk  with- 
out being  overheard. 

*'  Haliburton,"  said  he,  "  I'm  afraid 
that  I  haven't  treated  you  just  the  way 
I  should."      . 

"You've  guessed  right,"  assented 
the  superintendent  candidly;  "you 
haven't!" 

Murphy  was  considerably  taken 
aback.  He  had  not  looked  for  such 
matter-of-fact  speaking, 

"Well,"  he  pursued,  hedging,  "per- 
haps I  shouldn't  have  bid  alone  the 
way  I  did;  but  there  were  complica- 
tions which  you  don't  know  anything 
about  that  drove  me  to  do  it." 

The  superintendent  sniffed  audibly. 

"You  didn't  bring  me  here  just  to 
tell  me  all  this.  What's  your  proposi- 
tion?" 

"  My  proposition  is  this,"  said  Mur- 
phy; '•  I  want  to  square  myself  with 
you  if  I  can.  How  would  you  like  a 
piece  of  the  Ridout  Bridge  to  do?" 

"  How  much  and  on  what  terms?" 
questioned  Haliburton  briefly. 

"The  abutments,  excavations  and 
approaches.  You  can  put  me  in  a  bid 
on  it — a  private  bid,  you  know;  I'm 
not  asking  any  one  else — and  if  the 
price  is  right,  I'll  hand  it  over  to  you." 

Murphy  was  doing  no  slight  favour 
— to  himself!  The  Ridout  Bridge 
consisted  of  but  the  two  abutments 
and  the  centre  pier.  The  middle  one, 
being  in  the  water,  would  have  to  be 
built  by  means  of  caisson  work  and 
compressed  air.  Murphy  kept  this  for 
himself.  It  alone  was  about  half  the 
work.  The  abutments,  however,  were 
merely  earth  and  rock  excavation,  and 
the  approaches  simply  a  case  of  filling. 
It  meant  a  lot  of  work  but  no  unusual 
difficulties. 

Haliburton  considered  the  scheme 
for  a  moment.      Murphy  had  cheated 


him  out  of  this  very  work  in  the  first 
place;  and  yet,  after  all,  even  if  it  were 
only  a  sub-contract,  it  would  be  his 
first  job  entirely  in  his  own  name. 

"  I'll  take  you,"  he  said  at  length, 
the  sentimental  reasons  weighing 
against  the  practical;  "send  me  your 
specifications  and  I'll  make  a  bid." 

"They'll  be  ready  next  week." 

Looking  over  the  specifications  the 
following  week,  Haliburton  observed 
two  striking  points  about  them — first, 
that  a  lump-sum  bid  was  called  for; 
and,  second,  that  no  quantities  were 
mentioned. 

"  I  suppose,"  thought  he,  "that  the 
old  man  doesn't  think  I  need  any  quan- 
tities, seein'  I  saw  them  in  the  original 
specifications.  I'll  have  to  send  out 
and  take  some  for  myself." 

Then  he  set  about  making  out  his 
estimate. 

"Murphy  wants  to  give  me  this 
job,"  he  told  Fonger.  "There's  no 
reason  why  I  shouldn't  charge  good 
prices  on  it.  Considerin'  I've  got  the 
inside  track  to  the  extent  of  knowin' 
what  the  old  chap  figgered  it  could  be 
done  for,  I  guess  it's  up  to  me  to  make 
something  here." 

Murphy's  contract  price  for  the 
whole  Bridge  was  two  hundred  and 
fifty  thousand  dollars.  Haliburton's 
estimate  for  his  "sub,"  which  was  just 
about  half  of  the  whole  job,  was  one 
hundred  and  twenty-five  thousand. 

"It's  pretty  high  for  a  'sub,'"  he 
explained  to  the  stock-clerk;  "but  I 
guess,  under  the  circumstances,  it'll 
go.  He  wants  to  get  it  off  his  hands 
and  would  like  me  to  have  it  to  sort  o' 
appease  my  mighty  wrath,  so  I  guess 
it'll  do." 

Murphy  accepted  the  bid. 

Then  after  he  had  accepted  it  he 
wrote  Haliburton,  furnishing  him  esti- 
mated quantities  and  asking  for  a  price 
in  detail.  The  superintendent  read 
the  latter. 

"  Great  Scott!"  he  cried;  "  would 
you  just  look  at  here,  Fonger." 

The  stock-clerk  glanced  over  it. 

"What  about  it?"  he  questioned; 
"  I  don't  see  anything." 


4o8 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


Then  Haliburton  changed  his  mind 
and  resolved  to  say  nothing. 

"  No,"  replied  he  quietly,  after  a 
moment's  thought;  "  I  don't  know  as 
there  is  anything  to  see,  either." 

That  night  he  made  out  his  itemised 
bid.  With  infinite  care  he  figured  a 
price  per  yard  for  earth  and  rock  exca- 
vation, for  filling  and  grading,  and  for 
masonry  and  concreting.      He  worked 


'   I'd  sooner  have  you  here  th:H,n  on  the  other  side  of  the  fence 

DRAWN    BV    HAROLD    PYKE 

it  out  and  made  certain  that  the  totals 
of  his  lump-sum  and  detail  bids  agreed. 
Then  he  sent  it  to  Murphy. 

It  was  accepted  almost  off-hand.  A 
month  later  Haliburton  began  work. 

Then  he  discovered  that  he  had  even 
a  better  thing  than  he  knew  at  the 
time  he  had  bid  on  it.  The  test  bor- 
ings, by  some  freak,  had  shown  quite  a 
different  quality  of  soil  from  that  with 


which  he  found  he  had   to   deal.      His 
work  became  practically  a  case  of  ex- 
cavating   in    one   spot,    throwing    the 
earth  into  buckets,  and  then,  by  means 
of  a  chain  of  derricks,  passing  it  a  few 
hundred  yards  back   and   using  it    for 
fill.      He  found  that    for  the  one  hand- 
ling of  material  he  was  receiving  pay- 
ment twice  over.      He   had   estimated 
on  having  to  load   the  dirt   into  cars, 
run  them  five  miles 
up  the  line,    and 
then    have  them 
bring    back  a    new 
load  for  fill  and  bal- 
last.    At  the  end  of 
each  month  he  put 
in  estimates  for  the 
work  accomplished 
during  the   preced- 
ing thirty  days. 
They  were  prompt- 
ly paid. 

Busy  with  his 
other  work.  Murphy 
himself  paid  little 
attention  to  these 
payments,  and  be- 
yond the  mere  sign- 
ing of  the  checks 
left  the  matter  en- 
tirely in  the  hands 
of  his  bookkeeper, 
Macpherson,  a 
shrewd  old  Scotch- 
man. The  eleventh 
estimate,  however, 
happened  to  catch 
the  con  tractor' s 
eye.  "  What's  the 
total  we've  paid  this 
fellow  ?"  he  asked. 
The  clerk  hastily 
checked  his  figures. 
"  A  hundred  and 
thirty-five  thousand,"  said  he. 

"  What!"  Murphy  had  laid  his  pipe 
on  the  table  and  was  looking  over  the 
figures  "  Must  be  something  wrong 
with  your  addition,  my  man!" 

The  bookkeeper  said  nothing.  Stand- 
ing respectfully  aside,  he  allowed  the 
contractor  to  examine  the  book. 
Murphy  hastily  ran  his  pencil  down 
the    column.     Then    a    panic    ensued. 


THE  JUNIOR  PARTNER 


409 


The  previous  estimates  were  spread 
out  and  the  figures  carefully  compared; 
even  the  different  items  of  the  estimates 
themselves  were  carefully  gone  into. 
Three  times  was  the  column  totalled. 
Yet  the  result  remained  the  same. 

The  day  was  cool  enough,  but  the 
contractor  was  mopping  his  face.  His 
silk  handkerchief   was   already  damp. 

*'  Macpherson,"  said  he  to  the  book- 
keeper, "you'd  better  send  young 
Jenkins  over  and  have  Haliburton 
come  down  here  for  half  an  hour.  Tell 
him  I  want  to  see  him." 

'•  Haliburton,"  Murphy  questioned 
when  that  individual  arrived,  "  what 
on  earth's  the  matter  with  these  esti- 
mates? We've  all  been  figuring  for 
an  hour  and  none  of  us  can  make  head 
or  tail  of  them.  I  wish  you'd  explain 
them  to  me." 

A  faint  smile  was  playing  around  the 
corners  of  Haliburton's  mouth.  He 
glanced  through  the  mass  of  papers 
which  the  contractor  had  shoved  across 
to  him. 

**  I  can't  see  anything  wrong,"  he 
replied. 

Murphy  was  beginning  to  be  con- 
vinced that  everything  was  not  pre- 
cisely as  it  ought  to  be. 

"Macpherson,"  he  called,  "hand 
me  Mr.  Haliburton's  lump-sum  bid 
and  that  bid  in  detail  with  our  esti- 
mated quantities.  Bring  them  into 
my  office  when  you've  got  them;  we'll 
get  at  the  bottom  of  this  thing.  Come 
inside,  Haliburton." 

Murphy  closed  the  door  behind  the 
bookkeeper  as  the  latter  went  out. 
The  superintendent  lighted  a  cigar. 
He  saw  that  the  climax  was  due  and 
settled  himself  for  the  storm. 

The  contractor  paid  no  attention  to 
the  pile  of  papers  which  Macpherson 
had  laid  on  the  table. 

"  Now,  then,"  said  he  shortly,  "I'd 
like  to  know  what  this  means.  Your 
bid  for  that  job  was  a  hundred  and 
twenty-five  thousand.  That  was  pretty 
near  twenty  per  cent,  higher  than  I 
could  have  got  it  done  for.  To-day  I 
find  that  we've  already  paid  you  that, 
plus  an  even  ten  thousand  more — and 
2 


still  you've   got    a  full  three    months' 
work  ahead  of  you. " 

Haliburton  grinned.  By  courtesy, 
it  might  have  been  called  a  smile  of 
triumph;  as  a  matter  of  fact,  it  was 
just  a  grin,  pure  and  simple. 

"I  reckon,  Murphy,  that  maybe  the 
principal  trouble  is  your  fault  and  not 
any  of  my  making:  I've  only  been 
sharp  enough  to  take  advantage  of  it. 
You  see,  you  made  a  little  mistake 
there  a  while  back  and  overreached 
yourself." 

"I  don't  .see  it."  Murphy  was  be- 
side himself  with  suppressed  rage. 
Never  had  anyone  dared  to  speak  so 
plainly  to  him. 

"No,  I  don't  reckon  you  do.  Sup- 
pose I  put  you  next  and  show  you 
what  a  regular  mark  you  are.  E)o  you 
remember  that  lump-sum  bid  of  mine 
for  a  hundred  and  twenty-five  thou- 
sand? Well,  you'd  have  been  all 
right  if  you'd  had  sense  enough  to  stop 
when  you  got  it.  But  you  didn't;  you 
wanted  a  detail  bid  and — well — I  gave 
you  one.  The  only  mistake  you  made 
was  that  when  you  asked  for  the 
change  and  sent  me  over  the  quanti- 
ties so  as  I  could  itemise  the  amount, 
you  underestimated  the  amount  of 
•workr  , 

The  contractor  was  gasping. 

"Yes,"  pursued  Haliburton,  enjoy- 
ing his  discomfiture,  "the  whole  diffi- 
culty that  you're  up  against  now  lay  in 
those  quantities.  You  see,  I  made  an 
estimate  of  my  own  when  I  made  my 
first  bid.  Then  the  ones  you  sent 
over  were  'way  small — only  about  two- 
thirds  mine — and  to  make  the  amount 
of  my  detail  bid  agree  with  the  total  of 
the  lump-sum  bid  I  had  already  sent 
you,  it  was  necessary  to  make  my 
prices  per  yard  just  about  half  as  much 
again  as  I  had  originally  intended. 
That's  one  place  I  came  out  ahead." 

"And?" 

That  was  all  Murphy  said.  The 
shrewdness  of  the  superintendent  fas- 
cinated him.  He  hungered  for  more 
details. 

"Then,  you  know,  seein'  your 
quantities  came  out  less  than  what 
actually  had  to   be  done,  there  was  a 


4IO 


THE  CA  NA  or  A  N  MA  GA  ZINE 


pile  o'  extra  work — an'  that,  too,  at 
mighty  good  prices.  That's  what's 
keepin'  me  busy  now.  I  reckon  we'll 
be  through  in  two  or  three  months 
more." 

"The  deuce  you  will!" 

Murphy  was  completely  outdone — 
and,  worst  of  all,  entirely  by  himself. 
He  had  raised  the  prices  on  himself 
just  fifty  per  cent,  more  than  he  need 
have  paid  and  had  made  fully  one- 
third  of  the  job  rank  under  the  head  of 
"extras,"  all  of  which  he  had  to  pay 
for  at  the  same  exorbitant  terms. 

His  grasp  of  the  situation  was  clear 
and  intelligent;  and  yet  it  did  not  in- 
crease his  wrath  against  the  superin- 
tendent. In  fact,  the  effect  was  quite 
the  opposite.  For  every  dollar  out  of 
which  the  superintendent  had  beaten 
him,  his  respect  for  the  other's  business 
ability  jumped  a  foot. 


"  Haliburton,"  said  he  after  a  pause, 
"  I  guess  that  when  I  told  you  a  while 
back  I  hadn't  treated  you  right  I  was 
talking  more  horse-sense  than  I  knew. 
I  made  a  mistake  ever  to  try  to  shake 
you;  maybe  I  made  another  when  I 
offered  you  a  chance  at  the  thing  at 
all  afterward — but  that's  no  matter. 
Now,  I've  got  another  proposition  to 
make  you.  You  go  right  ahead  and 
finish  up  this  bit  of  work;  put  me  in  a 
bill  for  every  item  you  can  rake  up;  I 
deserve  to  pay  it  all  for  being  such  an 
ass.  When  you're  through  come  right 
over  to  my  office,  and  we'll  hang  out 
that  old  sign  of  ours  again.  I  guess 
it  ain't  worn  out.  I'm  not  as  young 
as  I  used  to  be,  and  I  need  you  in  my 
business.  Besides,  I'd  sooner  have 
you  here  than  on  the  other  side  of  the 
fence." 


LINES  WRITTEN   BY  A  CERTAIN   KING 
WHILE  IN   EXILE 


BV    M.    B.    DAVIDSON 


A     King  was  I  ; 

^^    My  realm  a  woman's  life. 
My  tlirone  a  woman's  heart, 
My  courtiers  her  wishes  and  desires : 
My  palace  was  her  presence,  and  her  trusting  hand 
The  royalist  sceptre  ever  grasped  by  King : 
riy  robe  a  woman's  faith, 
My  crown  a  woman's  love, 
A  King  was  I. 

But  now  beyond  the  seas  1  dwell,  an  unthroned  Prince : 

For,  madly  blundering  with  the  power  1  held, 

riy  palace,  sceptre,  crown. 

And  state  were  snatched  away — 

An  exile  I. 

And  yet  1  wait  in  hope 

To  hear  across  the  waves 

That  some  of  my  old  courtiers,  faithful  still. 

Are  crying  through  my  long*lost  realm:  "Bring  back  our  King." 


PASSAGE  PAID 


A     STORY    OF    THE     EMPIRE 


By   W.    VICTOR  COOK 


HE  cholera  was  terrible  that 
year  in  Aden.  Whence  it 
came,  no  one  could  tell, 
whether  from  the  pilgrims 
and  others  from  the  arid 
Arabian  desert  inland,  or  whether  from 
the  dhows  and  sambuks,  with  their 
crews  of  half-caste  Arabs  and  Soma- 
Hs,  that  ply  hither  and  thither  in  the 
blazing  Red  Sea.  One  thing  was  cer- 
tain, that  it  did  not  come  from  the 
great  galleries  of  rock  cisterns, 
whence,  from  before  the  dawn  of  his- 
tory, Aden,  or  Eden  as  the  Arabs  say, 
has  drawn  her  supply  of  water  from 
the  hills. 

Wherever  it  came  from,  the  pesti- 
lence was  there,  and  men  with  white 
faces  and  men  with  brown  were  dying 
daily  and  hourly.  Aden  is  the  sana- 
torium of  the  nearer  East,  and  it  is  bad 
when  the  hospital  is  smitten. 

From  the  camp,  and  the  barracks, 
and  the  great  fort  that  looks  out  over 
twenty  leagues  of  sea  under  the 
shadow  of  the  circular  black  rock  from 
whose  summit  the  Empire-flag  flies 
over  this  lonely  outpost,  came  every 
day  little  processions  to  the  throb  of  a 
muflled  drum;  and  in  the  native  quar- 
ters the  death-wail  rose  dismally,  and 
thin,  dark  faces,  blank  with  terror,  or 
stolid  in  their  eastern  fatalism,  stared 
on  the  dead  as  they  were  carried  out 
from  their  midst,  down  the  hot,  nar- 
row streets  of  dirty-white  houses  to 
the  burial  ground.  The  garrison  was 
reduced,  and  those  who  remained  were 
marched  and  countermarched  over  the 
barren  peninsula  to  keep  up  their 
hearts.  And  still  men  died,  and  the 
hot,  bright  sunshine  glared  down  daily 
on  the  bare,  unshaded  black  rocks, 
which  stand  so  lonely,  rigid  and  stern 
to  guard  our  highway  to  the  East. 

Among  the  rest,  the  hard-worked 
"  P.M.O."  (principal  medical  officer) 
died,    and    his   assistant,   too,   and    in 


their  turn  were  borne  out  feet  fore- 
most, covered  by  the  flag  which  they 
had  served  so  well,  behind  the  muffled 
drums.  In  all  the  rocky  peninsula 
there  was  no  qualified  medical  man 
left  to  minister  to  thirty-five  thousand 
souls  that  were  rapidly  developing 
*'  cholera  funk  "  in  its  worst  form. 

On  the  day  of  the  surgeon's  death  a 
big  dhow,  with  the  wind  at  her  heels, 
and  tossing  clouds  of  spray  about  her 
bows,  sailed  into  the  little  quiet  bay 
under  Steamer  Point,  and  dropped  her 
anchor.  Into  one  of  the  boats  of 
swarthy,  sketchily-dressed  natives 
which  put  out  to  her,  there  descended 
a  map  in  European  dress,  yet  so 
browned  by  the  sun,  and  so  lank  and 
grave  of  face  that  he  might  have  passed 
for  an  Arab. 

As  he  walked  up  towards  the  Resi- 
dency this  man  met  the  surgeon's 
funeral,  and  raising  a  wide,  rough  hat 
of  sun-baked  straw,  stood  aside  under 
the  shelter  of  a  narrow  colonnade  to 
watch  it  pass.  Close  beside  him  a 
couple  of  Somali  camelmen  had  halted 
also  with  their  animals.  One  of  them 
said  something  to  the  other  as  the 
drums  thrummed  sadly  by. 

The  man  in  the  shadow  started. 

"What's  that  you  say  ?"  he  asked 
with  some  eagerness. 

The  Somali  who  had  spoken  stared 
in  amazement  at  being  addressed  in  his 
own  tongue  by  a  European. 

*^  Akal  (master),  I  said  it  was  the 
soldier's  doctor,"  he  anwered,  when 
his  surprise  allowed  him  to  speak. 
"Allah  is  great." 

The  man  from  the  dhow  said  no 
more,  but  walked  on  faster  when  the 
procession  had  passed.  By-and-bye 
he  accosted  an  English  private: 

"Is  it  true  that  the  doctor  is  dead?" 

"  He  was  took  early  this  morning  in 
'orspital.  It  doubled  him  up  all  in  a 
minute,  and  'e  was  dead  in  five  hours." 


41 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


"  Is  it  bad  in  the  town  ?" 

"Bad!  Heavens!"  The  soldier 
stared  at  him  fiercely.  "  Where  might 
you  have  come  from  ?" 

"Obbia." 

"You'd  best  have  stopped  there," 
said  the  private.  "  You  won't  live 
long'  here,  guvnor.  It's  killing  of  us 
at  the  double,  and  we've  no  doctor 
now,  God  help  us!  But  it's  served, 
and  we've  got  to  eat  it." 

The  brown-tanned  man  went  on  his 
way  to  the  Residency,  and  encountered 
the  Resident  himself  at  the  doors.  He 
saluted. 

"  I  met  the  doctor's  funeral  just  now, 
sir.  I  have  passed  the  medical  exam- 
inations. I  should  like  to  offer  you 
my  services." 

"  Come  inside,"  said  the  Resident. 
They  went  in,  and  the  Resident,  whose 
face  was  worn  and  anxious,  looked 
curiously  and  a  little  suspiciously  at  the 
darkened  skin,  the  curly  hair,  already 
grey,  and  the  careless  dress  of  the 
other. 

"I  have  not  seen  you  before,"  he 
said. 

"  I  arrived  from  Obbia  to-day." 

"  What  is  your  name  ?" 

"Jack  Thornton.  Once  it  was 
Surgeon-Major  Thornton.  That  was 
ten  years  ago." 

"Do  I  understand — ?'" 

"  I  was  dismissed  the  Service." 

"Why?" 

"  For  good  reasons,  sir.  But  I  was 
counted  a  good  doctor." 

"And  since  then  ?" 

"  I  have  been  in  Somaliland  for 
most  of  the  time  as  an  interpreter  for 
Benadir  Trading  Company.  I  hap- 
pened to  be  born  with  a  head  for  lan- 
guages." 

"  Why  have  you  come  to  me?" 

The  ex-Surgeon-Major  hesitated 
curiously  and  awkwardly;  then  looked 
the  Resident  in  the  face  with  tired 
grey  eyes. 

"You  will,  I  daresay,  put  me  down 
for  a  fool.  I  was  dismissed,  as  I  have 
told  you.  When  I  came  to  my  senses, 
I  wished  to  go  home — home  to  Eng- 
land. You  understand;  I  had  been 
already  ten    years    in    India.     But    it 


came  to  me  that  I  could  not  go  home 
— you  follow  me — till  I  had  retrieved 
my  character;  till  there  should  be  some- 
thing I  had  done  to  serve  the  country 
I  had  disgraced.  I  waited,  and  waited, 
and  there  was  nothing  I  could  do. 
Then  they  said  the  cholera  was  raging 
here  worse  than  for  forty  years.  It 
came  to  me  that  this  was  my  oppor- 
tunity; for  I  am  not  young,  and  I  wish 
to  rest  in  an  English  churchyard.  So 
I  came  to  see  if  I  could  pay  my  pas- 
sage. I  have  had  a  lot  to  do  with 
cholera,  and  have  lived  through  it 
twice  myself.      Will  you  take  me?" 

"  Have  you  your  papers,  Mr.  Thorn- 
ton ?" 

The  applicant  produced  several 
folded  papers  from  a  worn  pocket- 
book,  and  handed  them  to  the  Resi- 
dent. 

"An  M.D.  of  London!"  said  the 
Resident,  after  examining  them.  He 
did  not  suppress  a  note  of  surprise. 

Thornton  nodded. 

"  I  have  cabled  to  Bombay  and 
Cairo,"  said  the  Resident.  "The 
authorities  will  be  sending  a  man  as 
soon  as  possible,  but  there  may  be 
difficulties.  Then  there  is  Sir  James 
Mackinnon,  on  his  way  out  from  Lon- 
don to  study  the  disease  on  the  spot. 
A  brave  man,  Dr.  Thornton." 

"And  the  finest  bacteriologist  in 
England." 

"  You  have  kept  yourself  au  courant 
with  the  doings  of  your  profession  ?" 

"  I  walked  the  hospitals  with  Mac- 
kinnon, and  I  have  had  the  journal 
sent  out  to  me." 

"Well,  if  you  are  prepared  to  under- 
take the  duties  I  shall  be  glad  of  your 
services  till  the  authorities  send, 
Thornton.  We  none  of  us  know  whose 
turn  it  will  be  to-morrow.  With 
regard  to  pay — " 

"  I  fear  you  have  misunderstood 
me,  sir.  I  can  take  no  pay.  I  have 
made  money.  It  is  not  much,  but  it 
will  last  the  time  that  is  left  for  me." 

"  As  you  please,"  said  the  Resident 
a  little  wearily.  "But  you  will  aeed 
some  sort  of  outfit." 

"  I  have  loft  a  small  chest  on  the 
dhow  that    brought    me   from  Obbia. 


PASSAGE  PAID 


413 


What  else  is  needed  doubtless  I   shall 
find  in  the  surgeon's  quarters." 

Accordingly  it  came  to  pass  that  Dr. 
Thornton  was  installed  in  the  place  of 
the  dead  man  he  had  met  on  his  arrival, 
and  set  to  work  to  fight  the  pestilence. 
Day  after  day  he  fought  it,  striving 
hand  to  hand,  as  it  were,  with  Death. 
It  seemed  as  if  nothing  could  out- 
weary  the  doctor.  Early  and  late  he 
laboured,  going  the  rounds  of  the  gar- 
rison, the  telegraph  quarters,  and  the 
town,  till  even  the  panic-stricken, 
nerved  or  shamed  by  his  example, 
took  heart  of  grace  again.  Yet  still 
the  little  daily  procession  wound  into 
the  burial  ground,  and  still  the  wild 
lament  went  up  from  the  native  hovels 
in  the  town.  Everywhere  he  went  the 
grave- faced  doctor  left  a  joke  and  a 
brave  word  for  the  faint-hearted,  and 
where  he  got  the  jokes  from  was  a 
problem  defying  solution. 

The  Colonel  commanding  the  garri- 
son remonstrated  with  him  for  over- 
working himself,  and,  failing  to  con- 
vince him,  confided  to  the  Resident  his 
fears  that  Thornton  would  kill  himself 
off  before  the  new  man  could  arrive. 

The  Resident  meeting  him  one  day 
galloping  in  the  heat  of  noon  to  treat 
a  fresh  victim,  pulled  him  up. 

"  Doctor,  we  shall  be  burying  you 
before  long,"  he  said.  "  Where  will  the 
garrison  be  then  ?  They  tell  me  you 
hardly  eat  or  sleep.  Man,  it  can't  be 
done!" 

*•  It's  got  to  be  done,  sir,"  said  the 
doctor,  reining  in  his  lathered  horse. 
The  grey-haired  man's  eyes  flashed; 
he  had  the  enthusiasm  of  youth  once 
more.  '*  You  don't  understand.  I'm 
all  right.  You  are  looking  worried 
and  worn-out,  sir.  I'll  send  you  some- 
thing to  tone  you  up  to-night.  We 
must  keep  the  outworks  in  good  trim, 
or  the  enemy  may  jump  on  us  un- 
awares." 

He  was  gone  at  a  hand-gallop  ere 
the  pale  and  weary  Resident  could 
reply. 

Day  followed  day.  The  doctor  hardly 
knew  one  from  another  as  he  went 
about  his  tireless  work.  Gradually, 
very    gradually,    the     pestilence    gave 


way,  or  declined  in  rigour.  No  one 
had  come  yet  from  Bombay,  but  there 
had  been  no  deaths  of  white  residents 
for  three  days  when,  after  three  weeks, 
the  boat  that  went  out  to  receive  the 
mails  from  the  passing  liners  brought 
back  Sir  James  Mackinnon. 

The  famous  London  physician  landed 
in  the  morning.  In  the  afternoon  he 
visited  the  European  isolation  hospital, 
where  half-a-dozen  patients,  motion- 
less and  apathetic,  or  tormented  by 
horrible  cramps,  lay  slowly  recovering 
from  the  dreadful  stage  of  collapse. 
Before  sunset  Thornton  took  him  at 
his  request  to  see  some  stricken 
natives;  and  at  midnight  a  hurried 
messenger  brought  Thornton  from  his 
quarters,  to  find  ibe  plucky  physician 
in  the  throes  of  the  awful  disease  in 
the  same  building  he  had  inspected  a 
few  short  hours  before. 

All  the  rest  of  ibat  night  Thornton 
spent  at  his  side  It  was  well  on  in 
the  following  morning  when  he  left 
him  at  last  to  make  his  round  of  in- 
spection and  snatch  a  hasty  meal. 
"Send  for  me  directly  if  he  seems  to 
grow  worse,"  he  told  the  army  nurse 
in  charge  of  the  ward.  "Don't  hesi- 
tate. Dr.  Mackinnon  is  one  of  the 
most  valuable  men  we  have  in  Eng- 
land, and  you  and  1  must  see  to  it  that 
we  pull  him  through" 

In  the  afternoon  he  was  back  again. 
Dr.  Mackinnon's  was  a  rapid  case,  and 
already  the  critical  stage  was  on  him. 
He  lay  bloodless  and  livid,  his  skin 
cold  and  clammy  to  the  touch,  his 
eyes  bloodshot  and  deep  sunk  in  the 
sockets,  his  breathing  well-nigh  im- 
perceptible. Thornton  listened  anxi- 
ously through  his  stethoscope.  The 
heart  of  the  man  who  a  day  gone  was 
in  the  prime  of  his  strength  beat  now 
so  faintly  that  even  with  the  aid  of  the 
instrument  he  could  scarcely  detect  its 
pulsations.  The  brave  physician  lay 
far  in  the  shadow  of  death.  The  very 
juices  of  life  were  dried  at  their  source. 

In  such  cases  the  minutes  are  big 
with  fateful  possibility.  Thornton 
sat  by  the  bedside,  watching  with  tense 
and  almost  painful  eagerness  his  un- 
conscious   patient,   and  from    time    to 


414 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


time  glancing  at  his  watch.  Would 
the  longed-for  reaction  set  in,  and  this 
life,  so  precious  to  his  country,  be 
saved  to  continue  its  career  of  useful- 
ness ?  Or  would  the  lingering  spark 
die  out  altogether,  and  one  of  the 
greatest  benefactors  of  his  race  die 
here,  where  he  had  come  to  help,  a 
useless  sacrifice  on  the  altar  of  human- 
ity? 

An  hour  passed  and  there  w^s  no 
change;  two  hours,  and  still  the  coma 
lasted,  and  still  Thornton  kept  desper- 
ate vigil,  while  the  nurse  glanced  at 
him  from  time  to  time,  with  a  quiet 
curiosity. 

But  the  long  tension  was  relieved  at 
last.  Faintly,  very  faintly,  the  signs 
of  life  returned  into  the  corpse-like 
face;  the  livid  hues  faded,  and  the 
death-like  set  of  the  features  relaxed. 
Thornton  wiped  the  swfeat  from  his 
own  face,  and  rose,  giving  the  nurse 
directions  as  he  passed  out.  The  crisis 
was  over,  and  care  and  the  physician's 
constitution  would  do  the  rest. 

Crossing  the  parade  ground  he  met 
the  Colonel. 

"Hullo,  Thornton — seen  your  new 
colleague  yet?" 

What  colleague,  Colonel  ?" 

"  Finlayson — Surgeon- Major.  Just 
landed  from  the  Indus.  I  say — how's 
Sir  James  Mackinnon  ?" 

'*  He  has  pulled  through  the  worst. 
I  think  he  will  live," 

*'  Good!  By  Jove,  it  would  never 
do  to  let  a  man  like  that  lose  his  life 
chasing  germs  in  this  God-forsaken 
hole.  The  country  owes  you  some- 
thing, Doctor.  I  suppose  we  shall  be 
losing  you,  now  Finlayson  has  come  ?" 

"Yes — I've  paid  my  passage. 
Colonel." 

"We  shall  be  sorry  to  lose  you.  Dr. 
Thornton.  Upon  my  word,  I  never 
felt  so  grateful  as  when  you  took  us  in 
hand.  The  men  were  getting  into  a 
thorough  blue  funk." 

Thornton  thanked  the  Colonel,  and 
walked  on  till  he  found  himself  on  the 
barren,  sun-baked  hills.  From  an 
eminence  he  looked  over  the  town  and 
the  sea,  at  the  small  shipping  in  the 
Back-bay,  and  at  the  diminishing  bulk 


of  a  big  steamer,  which  he  judged  to 
be  the  Indus.  His  eyes,  as  he  gazed 
after  her  longingly,  had  a  far-away 
look.  She  was  homeward  bound  from 
India.  It  was  nearly  twenty  years 
now  since  he  had  seen  the  white  cliffs 
of  Dover  loom  up  from  the  grey-green 
Channel. 

Returning  from  his  walk,  he  found 
everything  going  well  in  the  ward, 
where  he  introduced  himself  to  his  suc- 
cessor. Three  hours  had  made  all  the 
difference  to  Sir  James  Mackinnon, 
and  though  he  was  still  at  death's  door 
from  utter  prostration,  his  face  was 
now  turned  away  from  it.  Thornton 
went  to  his  quarters  and  flung  himself 
down  to  sleep. 

There  would  be  no  homeward-bound 
vessel  calling  for  a  fortnight.  The 
European  quarter  was  practically  free 
now,  but  there  were  still  frequietit 
deaths  from  cholera  among  the  com- 
posite native  population.  Thornton 
took  leave  of  the  Resident  and  the 
officers  of  the  garrison,  and  established 
himself  among  the  frightened  Arabs 
and  Somalis,  so  as  not  to  carry  the 
peril  back  to  his  fellows. 

Day  by  day  he  continued  to  fight  the 
pestilence  that  devoured  the  unclean, 
ignorant  natives.  Their  sullen  sus- 
picions quickly  succumbed  before  the 
ministrations  of  one  who  could  abuse 
them  roundly  in  their  own  tongue, 
while  risking  his  life  to  cure  them. 
Scowling,  dark  faces  relaxed  as  he 
passed;  his  ears  were  saluted  with 
*■'■  Mort,  mort"  (welcome)  as  he  paced 
the  narrow  alleys  on  his  saving  mis- 
sion, and  now  and  again  he  would  be 
blessed  with  a  grateful  ^' Kul  liban, 
aban"  by  victims  whom  he  .  had 
dragged  from  the  clutch  of  the  pesti- 
lence. 

On  the  day  before  the  steamer  was 
due,  Thornton  passed  through  the 
European  quarter  to  make  some  pur- 
chases. He  stood  bargaining  in  a 
store,  and  while  he  spoke  a  horrid 
spasm  seized  him.  Gasping  with  the 
pain,  he  snatched  for  support  at  the 
door,  and  turned  to  leave  the  place. 
Even  as  he  did  so  a  second  spasm  took 
him. 


PASSAGE  PAID 


415 


In  half  an  hour  he  was  in  the  cholera 
ward.  Finlayson,  the  new  garrison 
doctor,  shook  his  head  when  he  saw 
him. 

'*  Poor  fellow,  I  don't  think  he  has 
the  stamina  to  pull  through.  He  looks 
worn  out." 

The  nurse,  who  had  conceived  an 
admiration  for  the  quiet,  grey-haired 
man  to  whom  the  garrison  owed  so 
much,  tended  him  like  a  sister  to  the 
end.  His  agony  was  short  and  sharp. 
"  Is  the  ship  come?"  he  groaned  once 
in  delirium.      "I've  paid  my  passage." 

The  nurse  repeated  the  phrase  to  the 
Colonel  when  he  came  to  ask  after  the 
patient,  and  she,  with  red  eyes,  had  to 
say  that  he  was  gone.  The  Colonel 
repeated  it  again  to  the  Resident. 

"  It's  a  queer  example  of  the  cus- 
sedness  of  things,  sir,  that  the  poor 
fellow  should  go  and  die  just  as  the 
ship  dropped  her  anchor.  We  owe 
him  something  for  pulling  us  through 
a  tight  pinch." 

"It  was  a  man's  work,"  said  the 
Resident,  "  and  manfully  done.  He 
told  me  he  was  a  soldier  in  his  time, 
but  they  kicked  him  out  of  the  army. 
He  didn't  tell  me  why.  Ciod  knows. 
He  wanted  to  lie  in  an  English  church- 
yard. 

"  Poor  beggar!"  said  the  Colonel. 

"  Cover  him  with  the  flag,"  said  the 
Resident,  "and  lay  him  with  the  regi- 
ment.     It's  the  nearest  we  can  do." 

So  it  came  to  pass  that  Dr.  Thorn- 
ton,   too,    was   borne  out  on   a    gun- 


carriage  when  the  time  came  for  his 
last  journey. 

"God  rest  his  soul!"  said  the 
Colonel.  "  By  Jove,  look  at  the  nig- 
gers!    They're  coming  to  the  funeral." 

"Well  they  may!  He  gave  them 
his  life,"  said  the  Resident. 

"  Pity  to  waste  it  so." 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  the  Resident 
slowly.  "  We've  sown  a  few  lives  like 
his,  up  and  down  the  Empire.  They 
bring  us  a  better  harvest  than  Maxim 
bullets,  in  the  long  run." 

Timidly,  and  at  a  respectful  distance, 
a  motley  crowd  of  skinny,  half-caste 
Arabs,  and  wild,  high-cheeked  Somalis, 
hung  on  the  flanks  of  the  procession. 

"  Wa,  wa!  brother,"  said  a  ragged 
camel-driver  to  his  mate.  "The 
cursed  drum  shakes  my  heart!  Why 
do  the  unbelievers  beat  the  war-drums 
over  their  dead  ?" 

"Inshallah!  To  drive  away  the 
spirits,  fool,  of  those  the  dead  warrior 
has  slain." 

"  But  this  was  no  warrior." 

"  I  know  not.  But  he  was  a  true 
man,  and  laughed  in  the  eyes  of  death. 
He  saved  my  son,  brother." 

"  See — they  are  at  the  burying- 
place.     Allah  give  him  paradise!" 

A  volley   rang  out  over  the  grave. 

"  Ekh!  That  is  for  the  evil  spirits. 
Wa,  wa!  brothers,  he  is  gone.  Allah 
akbarr 

And  from  the  huddled  crowd  of 
natives  there  went  up  a  long-drawn, 
doleful  crv. 


TIPPING— A  DEFENCE 


By  ALBERT  R.   CARMAN,  Author  of  ''The  Pensionmiires;'  etc. 


HAT  travellers  dislike  and 
waiters  appear  to  like  the 
"tipping  system"  may  be 
taken  as  a  proof  of  our 
superficiality  as  a  race. 
After  much  listening  to  the  grumbling 
of  travellers  on  the  subject,  I  have 
gathered  that  they  object  to  it  chiefly 
because  it  is  expensive  and  annoying — 
that  it  means  a  giving  of  something 
for  nothing,  and  a  possible  exposure 
to  a  more  or  less  mild  rudeness  if  by 
chance  they  fall  below  the  tip  expected. 
That  anyone  should  imagine  that  in 
paying  so  universal  a  tribute  as  the  tip 
he  is  giving  "something  for  nothing," 
must  surely  be  construed  as  "  lese 
majesty "  with  respect  to  the  great 
competitive  system  which  keeps  the 
world's  business  going.  From  the 
same  travellers  who  growl  at  tipping, 
I  hear  pathetic  stories  of  waiters  who 
work  long  and  toilsome  hours  for  noth- 
ing but  the  chance  to  pick  up  tips; 
and  of  others,  more  hardly  used  still, 
who  actually  pay  for  the  privilege  of 
putting  napkins  over  their  arms  and 
presenting  themselves  at  your  left 
hand.  This,  it  seems  to  me,  should 
suggest  to  the  traveller  the  obvious 
thought  that  he  is  paying  with  his  tip 
his  share  of  the  waiter's  wages.  To 
be  sure,  it  does  suggest  it  to  many 
travellers;  but  that  only  serves  to  in- 
crease their  sense  of  outrage,  for  they 
contend  that  they  pay  it  over  again  in 
the  landlord's  bill. 

Here  is  where  their  want  of  respect 
for  the  competitive  system  betrays  it- 
self. They  would  be  ready  enough 
probably  to  explain  the  willingness  of 
the  waiters  to  take  positions  with  little 
or  no  pay  beyond  the  "gratuities"  of 
travellers  by  pointing  to  the  swarms  of 
even  less  well  paid  men  behind  them 
eager  to  take  their  places.  That  is  all 
clear  enough.  Competition  drives  the 
waiter  to  his  lowest  price  in  spite  of  his 
wearing  the  uniform    of  gentility;  but 

416 


does  it  retreat  before  the  august  front 
of  the  landlord?  Is  he  able  to  defy  it, 
and  pocket  pay  for  the  services  of  his 
waiters  twice  over — once  from  the  cus- 
tomer and  once  from  the  poor  waiter 
himself  who  works  for  the  landlord  for 
nothing?  Most  assuredly  not.  There 
is  no  fiercer  competition  as  a  rule  than 
the  rivalry  of  hotels;  and  at  no  point 
do  they  compete  more  keenly  than  in 
the  cutting  of  rates.  On  the  continent 
of  Europe,  for  example,  where  tipping 
has  its  widest  sway,  population  presses 
very  hard  upon  the  means  of  subsist- 
ence, and  competition  has  crowded 
eager  humanity  into  every  crevice  of 
opportunity.  It  may  be  taken  for 
granted  that  when  the  traveller  gives 
competition  a  chance  to  operate — that 
is,  enquires  prices  of  different  estab- 
lishments— he  is  not  usually  paying 
more  for  a  thing  or  a  service  than  it  is 
worth  at  that  time  and  place.  If  a 
landlord  does  not  pay  his  waiters — or 
underpays  them — he  is  able  to  sell  you 
a  set  meal  at  a  lower  price  than  he 
otherwise  could;  and  if  he  does  not  do 
it,  some  one  else  will  do  so,  and  in 
time  will  get  his  trade  away  from  him. 
Economic  law  is,  of  course,  something 
like  a  thick  liquid  and  finds  its  level 
somewhat  slowly,  but  it  finds  it. 

So  the  traveller  is  really  in  the  posi- 
tion of  dealing  at  first  hand  with  the 
waiter.  He  buys  from  the  landlord  so 
much  cooked  food, the  use  of  table  furni- 
ture and  a  place  in  which  to  dine,  and  he 
buys  independently  from  the  waiter  the 
serving  of  his  dinner.  He  may,  of 
course,  only  partly  pay  the  waiter,  but 
I  am  taking  the  extreme  case  for  the 
sake  of  clearness.  Now  he  buys  this 
service  directly  from  the  waiter;  but 
there  is  no  previous  agreement  as  to 
the  price  to  be  paid.  That  is  abso- 
utely  optional  with  the  traveller,  and 
he  may,  if  he  wishes,  pay  nothing. 
Yet  it  is  the  traveller  who  objects  to 
the  system,  and  the  waiter  who  is  sus- 


TIPPING— A  DEFENCE 


417 


pected  of  fostering  it!  As  to  the  gen- 
uineness of  the  average  traveller's  ob- 
jection, there  can  be  no  doubt;  but  I 
wonder  what  would  happen  if  the 
waiter  were  offered  a  weekly  payment, 
representing  a  fair  average  of  his  tips, 
in  lieu  of  them.  Of  course,  if  he  does 
not  get  the  substitute,  he  wants  the 
tips;  but  his  eagerness  for  them  may 
not  mean  that  he  likes  that  way  of 
collecting  his  wages.  In  fact,  the  re- 
cent protest  against  "tipping"  by  the 
waiters  of  Paris,  shows  that  they,  at 
all  events,  do  not  like  this  method. 

For  the  "tipper,"  however,  the  sys- 
tem would  seem  to  be  full  of  advan- 
tages. He  is,  to  begin  with,  a  joint 
employer,  with  the  landlord,  of  the 
waiter.  The  waiter  must  please  him 
on  pain  of  losing  part  of  his  salary.  A 
clerk  in  a  store  is  in  no  such  position, 
though  his  success  depends  upon 
pleasing  customers  and  selling  goods; 
and  a  customer  can  hardly  fail  to  no- 
tice the  difference  in  the  attitude  to- 
ward himself  of  a  tipless  clerk  and  a 
tip-earning  waiter.  Yet  in  everything 
but  the  tip  they  stand  on  similar 
ground.  Thus,  by  reason  of  the  tip 
system,  the  traveller  is  able  to  com- 
mand a  much  more  attentive  and  cour- 
teous service  than  he  would  otherwise 
get.  It  puts  the  waiter,  indeed,  into 
an  entirely  different  attitude  from  that 
which  he  would  occupy  if  tipping  had 
never  been  heard  of.  He  knows  now 
that  the  size  of  his  tip — i.e.^  his  wage 
— depends  largely  upon  the  amount  of 
pleasing  service  he  can  seem  to  render 
to  the  traveller,  and  the  result  is  that 
he  is  always  seeking  opportunities  to 
be  of  use.  Let  him  be  paid  a  fixed 
salary  and  never  get  a  tip  and,  if  he  is 
human  like  the  rest  of  us,  he  will  do 
his  work  well,  but  will  let  the  oppor- 
tunities for  extra  services  seek  him, 
not  always  to  find  him.  In  the  course 
of  a  number  of  wheeling  tours  in  out- 
of-the-way  places  as  well  as  on  beaten 
tracks,  I  have  had  to  do  with  both 
kinds  of  hotel  servants,  and  it  makes 
all  the  difference  in  the  world  which 
sort  you  find  when  you  ride  up  to  a 
hotel  in  a  rain  storm.  The  man  who 
sees  a  special  tip  in   your  soaked  con- 


dition, offers  to  clean  your  bicycle,  and 
does  it  thoroughly,  so  that  he  can  call 
your  attention  to  the  fact,  while  an- 
other servant  is  delighted  to  take  your 
clothes  away  and  dry  them  with  care 
and  celerity.  But  at  a  hotel  where 
tips  have  been  too  rare  to  be  expected, 
you  are  apt  to  find  the  servants  very 
busy  on  such  an  occasion,  and  unless 
you  are  dealing  with  the  landlord  him- 
self, your  dripping  clothes  may  even 
be  begrudged  a  place  near  the  solitary 
fire.  Usually,  if  you  care  anything 
for  your  bicycle  you  will  clean  it  your- 
self, letting  your  clothes  dry  on  you 
as  you  work.  There  are  things  to  be 
said  in  favour  of  this  system,  but  it  is 
the  system  of  doing  without  services, 
not  of  getting  them.  When  you  really 
want  something  done  for  you,  it  is  em- 
phatically not  the  best  way. 
"But  it  degrades  the  waiter!' 
This  is  the  most  plausible  objection 
one  hears.  Being  of  the  "my  brother's 
keeper"  brand  of  argument,  it  depre- 
cates a  too  critical  examination,  and  it 
jumps  so  well  with  the  feeling,  instinct- 
ive with  us  of  the  English  stock,  that 
attentiveness  is  a  kind  of  servility  that 
it  seldom  fails  to  carry  conviction. 
Then  is  not  the  notion  as  broad  as 
civilisation  that  service  is  servile — and 
especially  personal  service?  Therefore 
whatever  makes  the  servant  more  a 
servant  must  degrade  him.  The  logi- 
cal outcome  of  this  line  of  reasoning  is 
that  the  churlish  servant  is  the  best 
servant,  and  that  a  proper  social  order 
would  abolish  all  service.  In  the  mil- 
lennium, then,  we  shall  all  cook  our 
own  dinners  and  take  turns  in  waiting 
on  each  other,  with  the  result  that 
many  of  us  will  eat  some  very  bad 
dinners  and  the  waiting  will  not  all  be 
done  by  the  waiters.  In  fact,  any  seek- 
ing that  kind  of  a  millennium  should 
look  backward  rather  than  forward,  for 
the  barbarian  was  a  self-sufficient  be- 
ing, and  the  chief  business  of  advanc- 
ing civilisation  has  been  the  multi- 
division  of  labour. 

But  whence  the  stupid  notion  that 
personal  service  is  servile?  It  springs 
partly  from  the  fact  that  for  a  long 
time   it  was   the   task   of  slaves,    but 


4i8 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


probably  more  from  the  circumstance 
that  it  is  not  now  very  well  paid.  And 
neither  reason  is  worth  the  ink  it  takes 
to  write  it.  The  man  who  serves  your 
dinner  well  is  performing  as  worthy  an 
act  as  the  man  who  cooks  it  well,  or 
the  man  who  grows  gfood  beef  to  be 
be  cooked — or  the  man  who  lightens 
vour  proper  punishment  with  his  medi- 
cal skill  if  you  are  tempted  to  eat  too 
much  of  it.  That  being  granted,  any- 
thini,'-  that  encourages  the  waiter  to  do 
his  work  with  tact  and  something  akin 
to  enthusiasm,  is  not  necessarily  a  bad 
influence.  If  waiting  is  not  degrading 
perse,  neither  is  zeal  in  waiting.  As 
I  have  said  before,  the  traveller  is  sim- 
ply in  the  position  of  doing  business 
directly  with  the  waiter,  and  an  effect 
is  produced  precisely  like  that  which 
every  lady  shopper  notices  when  she 
deals  with  the  proprietor  of  a  small 
store  instead  of  with  a  salaried  clerk 
in  a  large  establishment.  That  is,  the 
proprietor — and  the  waiter — take  more 
pains  to  sell  their  goods,  and  this  is  no 
more  degrading  to  the  one  than  it  is 
to  the  other. 

Two  elements,  however,  enter  into 
the  transaction  with  the  waiter  which 
are  absent  in  the  other  case.  One  is 
the  common  impression,  possibly  often 
shared  by  the  waiter,  that  the  tip  is 
a  gratuity  and  not  a  payment  for  ser- 
vices rendered,  and  the  second  is  the 
natural  corollary  of  this,  viz.,  the 
power  of  the  traveller  to  let  other 
things  than  the  value  of  the  service 
determine  the  size  of  his  tip.  He  may 
arbitrarily  cut  his  tip  in  half,  or  he 
may  not  know  the  sum  usually  calcu- 
lated upon,  and  the  waiter  has  no  re- 
course but  to  look  glum.  But  these 
need  not  be  fatal  objections  to  a  sys- 
tem which  otherwise  works  so  well.  A 
little  thinking  should  reveal  to  both 
waiter  and  waited  upon  that  the  tip  is 
not  a  gift,  but  the  payment  of  a  debt; 
while  the  cut  in  the  waiter's  wages  be- 
cause of  the  tips  he  is  likely  to  get  has, 
no  doubt,  been  fixed  by  a  study  of  long 
averages   which  takes   account  of  the 


small  tipper  as  well  as  his  more  lavish 
fellow  -  traveller.  The  improvement 
that  the  tipping  system  is  most  in  need 
of  is,  undoubtedly,  more  conscientious- 
ness on  the  part  of  the  tippers.  The 
tip  should  gauged  by  the  value  of  the 
services  and  not  by  the  momentary 
comfort  of  the  traveller  as  he  passes 
through  the  household  parade  on  his 
way  to  his  carriage.  He  is  not  dis- 
tributing largess,  but  paying  debts  ot 
honour,  and  he  should  do  it  with  as 
scrupulous  a  care,  at  least,  as  the 
gambler  shows  in  meeting  his  obliga- 
tions of  the  same  character.  In  a  few 
places — among  the  porters  at  certain 
railway  stations,  for  example — a  tip 
tariff  has  already  been  introduced,  but 
this,  if  it  became  general,  would  kill  a 
vital  part  of  the  system.  Under  an 
iron  tariff,  a  bad  waiter  would  get  as 
much  as  a  good,  and  extraordinary 
services  would  not  be  provided  for. 
Still,  if  travellers  abuse  the  tipping 
system,  presuming  upon  its  voluntary 
character  to  pay  little  or  nothing,  and 
making  it  a  point  of  grievance  against 
the  tip-earning  callings,  they  will  be 
met  some  day  with  a  tariff,  when  they 
will  pay  as  much  as  they  do  now  and 
get  less.  For  a  tip  fixed  by  tariff 
would  be  practically  an  addition  to  the 
hotel  bill,  and  the  waiter  would  be- 
come a  salaried  servant  instead  of  an 
independent  proprietor  selling  his 
labour  to  you  on  the  common  ground 
of  another  man's  hotel. 

Possibly  the  waiter  would  like  this 
better.  Many  men  prefer  a  salary  to 
the  chances  of  business.  But  that  it 
would  increase  his  real  independence 
and  self-respect  is,  I  think,  open  to 
doubt;  for  indifference  is  not  inde- 
pendence, and  a  man's  self-respect 
does  not  suffer  when  he  wins  the 
wages  of  success  in  his  chosen  calling. 
As  for  the  traveller,  the  day  he  suc- 
ceeds in  killing  the  tipping  system,  he 
punctures  the  softest  air  cushion  that 
now  eases  for  him  the  jolts  of  his 
journeyings  over  the  highways  of  the 
world. 


ROBERTS   AND  THE    INFLUENCES  OF 

HIS  TIME 


By  JAMES  CAPPON,  Professor  of  English,   Queens   University 


V-THE  AVE.     REFLECTIVE  POETRY. 
THE  BOOK  OF  THE  NATIVE 

N  1892  Mr.  Roberts  pub- 
lished the  Ave,  a  poem  for 
the  centenary  of  Shelley. 
In  this  poem  he  once  more 
makes  use  of  a  grand  tradi- 
tional form  of  poetry,  for  the  Ave  be- 
longs both  by  its  elevation  of  style  and 
its  manner  of  treating  the  subject  to  that 
high  imaginative  form  of  elegy  which 
Shelley's /laV)««7.y,  Arnold's  Thyrsis2indi 
Swinburne's  Ave  atque  Vale  have  made 
familiar  to  English  readers. 

A  sea  this  is — beware  who  ventureth! 
For  like  a  fiord  the  narrow  floor  is  laid 
Mid-ocean  deep  to  the  sheer  mountain  walls. 

These  lines,  which  Mr.  R.  W.  Gilder 
wrote  of  the  sonnet,  might  be  ap- 
plied with  even  more  truth  to  this  high 
form  of  elegy.  There  is  no  poetry 
which  needs  a  more  mystic,  intimate 
and  profoundly  essential  contact  with 
its  subject  than  this  elegiac  chant  of 
the  poet  over  his  dead  brother.  It 
must  be,  in  order  to  hold  its  place  in 
that  great  line  of  tradition  which 
reaches  from  the  first  idyll  of  Theo- 
critus to  the  Ave  atque  Vale,  a  subtle 
and  strangely  perfect  expression  of  the 
spirit  and  genius  of  the  departed  one. 
It  is  the  modern  poet's  visit  to  the 
nether  world  of  shades,  in  which 

Piping  a  ditty  sad  for  Bion's  fate. 

he  seeks  the  soul  of  his  lost  brother  in 
the  immortal  gloom,  and  gives  the 
world  something  like  a  farewell  vision 
of  him.  And  the  worth  of  the  vision 
lies  not  merely  in  the  high,  impas- 
sioned music  of  the  song,  but  in  the 
way  in  which  the  lost  Bion's  figure 
assumes  the  transcendent  and  almost 
impersonal  outlines  of  an  elemental 
spiritual  force  that  has  been  withdrawn 
from  the  sum  of  life.  In  such  work 
there  is  no  room  for  the  commoner 
stvle  of  characterisation  and  estimate 


which  may  fitly  find  a  place  in  ordinary 
eulogistic  and  memorial  verse.  The 
strain  is  altogether  of  a  higher  mood, 
and  the  logic  scorns  the  ordinary 
limits  of  thought,  to  use  a  mys- 
tic .symbolism  of  its  own.  You 
may,  if  you  like,  use  all  the  remote  and 
unreal  conventions  which  have  distin- 
guished pastoral  elegy  since  its  birth, 
but  you  must  give  them  an  atmos- 
phere, a  far  depth  of  outlook  over 
human  fate  and  history,  in  which  they 
become  again,  for  once,  all  true.  You 
may  call  upon  Pan  and  the  Nymphs 
with  Theocritus,  or  upon  the  "mighty 
mother"  with  Shelley,  or  like  Swin- 
burne have  visions  of  the  "gods  of 
gloom"  and 

That  thin^  transformed  which  was  the'Cyth- 
erean. 

But  all  these  things  must  be  felt  as 
a  sincere  symbolism  of  a  mystery  in 
which  the  fate  of  the  poet  living  and  that 
of  his  dead  brother  are  alike  bound  or 
even  blended.  There  is  immense 
license  for  the  imagination,  yet  no- 
where is  the  call  for  sincerity  in  the 
deepest  sense  of  the  word  more  im- 
perative. 

In  the  Adonais,  for  example,  the 
thought  sweeps  wildly  through  that 
vast,  vague,  pantheistic  and  Platonic 
universe  in  which  Shelley's  soul  dwelt, 
but  there  is  a  transcendental  harmony 
and  unity  in  the  assemblage  of  ele- 
ments there,  contradictory  and  incon- 
gruous as  they  might  seem  in  the  work 
of  another.  That  is  Shelley's  world, 
from  which  his  cry  comes  to  us  with  a 
passionate  sincerity: 

Dust  to  the  dust,  but  the  pure  spirit  shall  flow 
Back    to    the   burning-    fountain  whettcA  it 
came, 
.■\  portion  of  the  Eternal,  which  must  glow 
Throug:h   time    and    change    unquenchably 
the  same. 
Whilst    thy  cold    embers    choke    the    sordid 
hearth  of  shame. 


420 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


Peace,    peace!  he  is   not  dead,   he  doth  not 
sleep! 

He  hath  awakened  from  the  dream  of  life; 
'Tis  we  who,  lost  in  stormy  visions,  keep 

With  phantoms  an  unprofitable  strife. 

So  in  the  Ave  atque  Vale,  Swinburne's 
impassioned  elegy  for  Baudelaire,  all  the 
strange  forms  of  imaginative  appeal 
from  the  "god  of  suns  and  songs"  to 
the  "god  bitter  and  luxurious,"  are 
true  formulas  for  the  psychic  life  alike 
of  the  singer  and  of  him  who  is  the 
subject  of  the  song.  And  the  lyrical 
cry  is  in  full  accord  with  the  feeling 
of  the  whole: 

Not  thee,  O  never  thee,  in  all  time's  changes, 
Not  thee,  but  this  the  sound  of  thy  sad  soul. 

This  form  of  elegy,  indeed,  may  be 
said  to  require  for  its  happiest  accomp- 
lishment a  strong  moral  and  even  men- 
tal affinity  to  exist  between  the  singer 
and  his  lost  brother,  otherwise  the 
song  lacking  confidence  and  intimacy 
would    fail  somewhere    of    its    effect. 

Mr.  Roberts  calls  his  poem  an  ode, 
but,  on  the  whole,  he  makes  it  conform 
to  the  requirements  of  the  pastoral 
elegy.  He  begins  by  some  stanzas 
which  describe  the  scenery  of  his  own 
Tantramar  and  the  high  intimations 
and  visitations  which  came  to  him 
there.  In  this  way,  rather  than  by 
any  more  intimate  and  psychological 
method,  he  modestly  ventures  to 
associate  his  own  psychic  and  poetic 
world  with  that  of  the  poet  of  the 
Prometheus.  The  manner,  however, 
in  which  he  makes  the  transition 
from  the  one  theme  to  the  other  is 
forced  and  unnatural.  After  describ- 
ing the  ebb  and  flow  of  the  tides  in  the 
marshes  of  Tantramar,  he  continues 
thus: 

Strangely  akin  you  seem  to  him  it'hose  birth 

One  hundred  years  agfo. 
With  fiery  succour  to  the  ranks  of  song 
Defied  the  ancient  gates  of  wrath  and  wrong. 

That  is  a  disenchanting  glimpse  of 
the  artist's  hand  in  a  moment  of  em- 
barrassment and  difficulty,  and  quite 
destroys  the  impression  of  inevitable- 
ness  which  poetry  should  give. 

After  eleven  stanzas  devoted  to 
Tantramar  the  poet  begins  a  series  of 


lofty  characterisations  of  the  genius  ot 
Shelley  as  exhibited  in  his  principal 
poems.  There  is  an  imaginative  bril- 
liancy about  these  characterisations. 
They  are  large,  loose  and  sweeping, 
but  for  that  very  reason  they  are  par- 
ticularly suited  to  the  nature  of  the 
subject.  Indeed,  the  large  rhetorical 
fluency  of  the  style  has  something 
which  in  its  way  resembles  the  wide 
sweep  and  movement  of  Shelley's  own 
glance.  The  following  stanzas  are  a 
fair  example  of  the  very  mingled  yarn 
of  fine  and  commonplace  in  the  Ave: 

The  star  that  burns  on  revolution  smote 

Wild  he.tis  and  change  on  thine  ascendant 
sphere, 
Whose  influence  therealter  seemed  to  tloat 

Through  many  a  strange   eclipse   of  wralli 
and  fear. 
Dimming  awhile  the  radiance  of  thy  love. 

But  still  supreme  in  thy  nativity, 
•All  dark,  invidious  aspects  far  above. 

Beamed  one  clear  orb  tor  thee- 
The  star  whose  ministrations  just  and  strong 
Controlled  the  tireless  flight  of  Dante's  song. 

With  how  august  contrition,  and  what  tears 

Of  penitential,  unavailing  shame. 
Thy  venerable  (oster-mother  hears 

The  sons  of  song  impeach  her  ancient  nanu-. 
Because  in  one  rash  hour  of  anger  blind 

She  thrust  thee  forth  in  exile,  and  thy  feet 
Too     soon     to     earth's     wild      outer      ways 
consigned — 

Far  from  her  well-loved  seal. 
T'ar    from    her    studious    halls    and    sioriid 

towers 
And  weedy  Isis  winding  through  his   flowers. 

And  thou,  thenceforth  the  breathless  child  ot 
change. 

Thine  own  Alastor.  on  an  endless  quest 
Of  unimagined  loveliness  didst  range, 

Urged  ever  by  the  souls  divine  unrest. 
Of  that   high  quest  and   that  unrest  divine 

Thy  first  immortal  music  thou  didst  make, 
Inwrought   with    fairy   Alp,  and    Reuss,   and 
Rhine, 

And  phantom  seas  that  break 
In  soundless  foam  along  the  shores  of  Time, 
Prisoned  in  thine  imperishable  rhyme. 

I  would  not  like  to  have  to  mark  all 
the  common  and  coarsely  hazarded 
phrases  in  the  Ave,  but  still  there  is  a 
fervour  and  intensity  of  utterance  in 
it  which  redeems  its  faults  in  this  way 
and  gives  it  as  a  whole  the  excellence 
of  spontaneity  and  vigour.  At  tinles, 
too,  particularly  where  the  poet  has 
the  direct  support  of  imaginative  asso- 


ROBERTS  AND  THE  INFLUENCES  OF  HIS  TIME 


421 


ciations  from  Shelley's  own  writings, 
the  Ave  has  a  fine  and  rare  quality  of 
imaginative  characterisation,  as  in  the 
apostrophe  to  the  Baths  of  Caracalla 
and  that  sky  of  Rome  from  which 
Shelley,  as  he  tells  us  himself,  drew  a 
subtle  strength  and  inspiration  while 
writing  his  Prometheus  Unbound: 

O  Baths  of  Caracalla.  arches  clad 

In  such  transcendent  rhapsodies  of  g^reen, 
That  one  n)ig:ht  guess  the  sprites  of  spring 
were  glad 
For  your  majestic  ruin,  yours  the  scene, 
The  illuminating  air  of  sense  and  thought; 
And  yours  the  enchanted   light,  O  skies  of 
Rome, 
Where    the     great      vision      into    form    wa^ 
wrought; 

Beneath  your  blazing  dome 
The  intensest  song  our  language  ever  knew 
Beat  up  exhaustless  to  the  blinding  blue! 

In  the  last  part  of  the  poem,  from 
the  twenty-first  stanza  onwards,  the 
^r^  begins  to  assume  the  character  of 
grand  elegiac  vision  and  lament;  the 
poet  ventures  on  freer  wing  into  the 
high,  ethereal  region  into  which  the 
Lycidas  and  the  Adonais  followed  their 
Greek  models,  and  we  hear  again  all 
the  well-known  elegiac  cries: 

Mourn,  Mediterranean  waters,  mourn 

In  affluent  purple  down  your  golden  shores! 

or, 

Not  thou,  not  thou — for  thou  wert  in  the  light 
Of  the  Unspeakable,  where  time  is  not. 

The  general  treatment  in  this  part 
resembles  most  that  of  the  Adonais. 
There  is  a  free  mingling  of  tones  and 
fancies  from  every  region  of  thought, 
the  orthodox  Christian  hope,  the  con- 
ception of  an  "eventual  element  of 
calm,"  as  Browning's  Clean  describes 
it,  and  the  classical  Elysian  vision, 
Homer,  Plato,  Job,  Omar,  Shake- 
speare and  the  rest  of  the  immortals 
greeting  the  latest  comer: 

There  face  to  face  thou  sawest  the  living  God 

And  worshippedst,  beholding  Him  the  same 

Adored  on  earth  as  Love 

In  that  unroutable  profound  of  peace. 
Beyond  experience  of  pulse  and  breath. 

Beyond  the  last  release 
Of  longing,  rose  to  gfreet  thee  all  the  lords 
0{  Thought,    with    consummation     in    their 
words: 


He  of  the  seven  cities  claimed,  whose  eyes 
Though  blind,  saw  gods  and  heroes,  and 
the  fall 

Of  Ilium,  and  many  alien  skies 
And  Circe's  isle;  and  he  etc.,  etc. 

The  poet  even  uses  the  great  free- 
dom of  vision  allowed  in  this  species 
of  poem  to  describe  Shelley's  disem- 
bodied spirit  looking  on  at  his  own 
obsequies: 

And    thou    didst     contemplate    with    wonder 
strange 
.And  curious  regard  thy  kindred  flame 
Fed  sweet  with  frankincense  and   wine  and 
salt. 
With  fierce  purgation  search  thee.     .     .     . 

In  the  ecstatic  flow  of  images  and 
utterance  which  characterises  this  last 
part  of  the  poem  there  is  a  wonderful 
mixture  of  the  true  and  the  false,  the 
beautiful  and  the  commonplace,  the 
grand  and  the  grandiose.  The  Ave  is 
a  splendid  rhetorical  effort,  a  bold  but 
somewhat  unregulated  flight  of  fancy 
through  the  empyrean,  marked  by 
many  irrelevancies,  of  course,  and  mis- 
taken toyings  with  every  breeze  that 
blows.  It  gives  us  some  very  fine 
characterisations  of  Shelley's  genius, 
but  it  can  hardly  be  said  to  create  a 
new  elegiac  world  for  us  or  add  a  new 
and  pure  mould  to  the  great  elegies  of 
the  past.  It  owes  something  to  the 
vigorous  flow  of  its  verse.  The  great 
lo-line  stanza  with  the  strong  cadence 
of  its  closing  couplet,  made  stronger 
by  the  shortening  of  the  preceding  line, 
is  urged,  through  modulations  and 
harmonies  not  always  of  the  finest  or 
smoothest  kind,  into  great  vigour  of 
movement;  and  sometimes,  as  in  the 
1 8th,  23rd  and  24th  stanzas,  reaches 
high  melodic  eflfects.  In  the  Ave,  as 
elsewhere,  the  work  of  Roberts  has 
nothing  either  of  the  weakness  or  fine- 
ness of  inlay  work;  its  qualities  are 
rather  those  of  the  improvisatore. 

.All  the  poems  of  Roberts  which  we 
have  passed  in  review  so  far,  belong 
more  or  less  to  the  poetry  of  nature 
description,  unless  the  Ave  be  a  partial 
exception.  But  during  the  last  decade 
of  the  nineteenth  century  the  poet  had 
evidently  begun  to  feel  that  he  had 
done  his  best  in  that  region  and  might 


422 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


now  try  something  a  little  different. 
At  any  rate  in  his  next  volume, 
77!^  Book  of  the  Native,  published  in 
1897,  most  of  the  poems  have  a  new 
critical  and  reflective  vein  in  them.  It 
is  a  very  mixed  vein,  as  the  character 
of  Roberts*  thought  in  poetry  always 
is,  drawing  from  different  and  hetero- 
geneous sources  with  a  kind  of  incon- 
scient  recklessness.  The  Heal- All, 
for  example,  is  a  pure  Wordsworthian 
product  in  phrase,  ethical  feeling  and 
reflection: 

Thy  unobtrusive  purple  face 

Amid  the  meagre  grass 
Greets  me  with  long  remembered  grace, 

And  cheers  me  as  I  pass. 

Thy  simple  wisdom  I  would  gain, — 

To  heal  the  hurt  Life  brings, 
With  kindly  cheer,  and  faith  in  pain, 

And  joy  of  common  things. 

The  Quest  of  the  Arbutus,  on  the 
other  hand,  is  pure  Emersonian  optim- 
ism with  touches  of  Emersonian  phrase : 

Because  the  tardy  gods  grew  kind, 
Unrest  and  care  were  cast  behind; 
I  took  a  day  and  found  the  world 
Was  fashioned  to  my  mind. 

But  it  ends  suddenly  on    the   chord  of 
the  sentimental: 

And  then  the  world's  expectancy 
Grew  clear:  I  knew  its  need  to  be 
Not  this  dear  flower,  but  one  dear  hand 
To  pluck  the  flower  with  me. 

That  last  is  a  note  which  has  not  been 
much  heard  in  Roberts'  poetry  as  yet, 
but  is  soon  to  rise  much  higher  and 
almost  silence  all  the  others.  But  not 
yet.  At  this  time  the  most  striking 
feature  of  his  poetry  is  a  kind  of  philo- 
sophic mysticism,  which  might  be  con- 
sidered as  one  way  of  escaping  from 
the  traditional  point  of  view  which  had 
grown  banal  for  poetry  by  much  repe- 
tition. For  the  poetry  of  Roberts  at 
this  period,  like  Canadian  poetry  in 
general,  still  held  by  the  old  ethical 
traditions  of  the  great  English  and 
American  schools  of  the  previous  gen- 
eration. It  was  virtually  unstirred  by 
the  subtle  reactions  of  thought,  the 
love  of  ethical  paradox  and  the  neu- 
rotic delicacy  of  sensibility  which  char- 


acterise the  French  Verlaines  and 
Mallarm^s  of  the  time.  Not  a  ripple 
from  the  Chat  Noir  and  the  caf^s  by 
the  Seine  had  touched  it,  as  the  verse 
of  Bliss  Carman,  for  example,  had 
already  been  touched  by  the  manner 
and  sentiment  of  the  Romances  Sans 
Paroles.  It  was  in  the  direction  of  a 
philosophic  mysticism,  then,  for  which 
Emerson  had  already  in  a  measure  pre- 
pared the  American  public,  that  Roberts 
now  sought  an  escape  from  the  ordin- 
ary, from  the  traditional,  from  the 
grand  ethical  highway  of  the  poets  now 
become  too  much  of  a  common  thor- 
oughfare. The  form  which  this  philo- 
sophic mysticism  takes  in  such  poems 
as  Autochthon  and  The  Unsleeping  may 
be  described  as  a  poetic  treatment  of 
the  cosmic  process,  and  owes  a  good 
deal  to  Emerson,  whose  curt  and  keen- 
edged  phrase  set  the  style  for  this 
oracular  verse.  Here  are  some  lines 
from  Autochthon: 

I  am  the  spirit  astir 

To  swell  the  grain 
When  fruitful  suns  confer 

With  labouring  rain; 
I  am  the  life  that  thrills 

In  branch  and  bloom; 
I  am  the  patience  of  abiding  hills. 

The  promise  masked  in  doom. 


I  am  the  hush  of  calm, 

I  am  the  speed, 
The  flood-tidp's  triumphant  psalm, 

The  marsh  pool's  heed; 
I  work  in  rocking  roar 

Where  cataracts  fall; 
I  flash  in  the  prismy  fire  that  dances  o'er 

The  dew's  ephemeral  ball. 

The  Unsleeping  is  in  the  same  style 
of  thought,  only  in  a  different  metre: 

Kheave  aloft  the  smoking  hill: 
To  silent  peace  its  throes  I  still, 
But  ever  at  its  heart  of  fire 
I  lurk,  an  unassiiaged  desire. 
I  wrap  me  in  the  sightless  germ 
An  instant  or  an  endless  term; 
And  still  its  atoms  are  my  care, 
Dispersed  in  ashes  or  in  air. 

Modern  science  has  taken  muchof  the 
mysticism  out  of  this  old  Emerson- 
ian vein.  The  idea  of  one  power  which 
works  through  all  things  has  been 
made  so  definite  by  the  far-reaching 
monistic  conceptions  of  modern  science 


ROBERTS  AND  THE  INFLUENCES  OF  HIS  TIME 


423 


that  it  is  a  very  easy  task  for  any  poet 
to  personify  it  and  illustrate  it  through- 
out the  whole  length  and  breadth  of 
natural  phenomena  in  the  universe.  It 
is  a  cosmic  process  which  explains  all 
and  engulfs  all  in  a  principle  of  absolute 
identity.  It  includes  everything  with- 
out adding  a  definite  idea  to  any- 
thing. Professor  Rand,  I  notice,  is 
quite  as  nimble  in  making  use  of  it  as 
Mr.  Roberts  is.  His  poem  "  I  Am  " 
has  just  as  good  a  right  to  the  title  of 
"Autochthon"  or  "The  Unsleeping" 
as  these  have  to  the  title  of  "  I  Am." 

I  am  in  blush  ot  the  rose, 

The  shimmer  of  dawn; 
Am  girdle  Orion  knows, 

The  fount  undrawn. 

I  am  earth's  potency. 

The  chemic  ray,  the  rain's. 

The  reciprocity 

That  loads  the  wains. 

In  Origins  the  treatment  is  different. 
The  cosmic  process  now  appears  as 
scientifically  impersonal  and  involving 
the  human  race  in  the  material  chain 
of  phenomena: 

Inexorably  decreed 
By  the  ancestral  deed. 
The  puppets  of  our  sires. 
We  work  out  blind  desires. 
And  for  our  sons  ordain 
The  blessing  or  the  bane. 
In  ignorance  we  stand 
With  fate  in  either  hand. 
And  question  stars  and  earth 

Of  life,  and  death,  and  birth. 
With  wonder  in  our  eyes 
We  scan  the  kindr^'d  skies, 
While  through  the  common  grass 
Our  atoms  mix  and  pass. 

At  the  end  of  the  poem,  however, 
Mr.  Roberts  rescues  himself  from  the 
grasp  of  this  sombre  scientific  necessi- 
tarianism in  a  manner  which  the  pro- 
fessors of  metaphysics  will  regard,  I 
fear,  as  another  instance  of  poetic 
levity: 

But  in  the  urge  intense 
.\nd  fellowship  of  sense. 
Suddenly  comes  a  word 
In  other  ages  heard. 
On  a  great  wind  our  souls 
Are  borne  to  unknown  goals, 
And  past  the  bournes  of  space 
To  the  unaverted  Face. 

This  sudden  leap  of  failh  as  an  im- 
mediate antithesis  to  admitted  scien- 


tific fact  is  hardly  as  happy  as  Brown- 
ing's famous  use  of  it  against  philo- 
sophic doubt: 

Just  when   we  are  safest,   there    is   a  sunset 
touch,  etc. 

Faith  does  not  make  a  good  an- 
tithesis to  scientific  fact;  but  yet,  taking 
it  in  a  large  view,  it  is  true  that  the 
word  "in  other  ages  heard"  is  the 
centre  of  that  impulse  which  will  not 
wholly  yield  the  ground  to  science. 

But,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  this  logical 
opposition  of  diverging  lines  of  thought 
gives  the  poet  no  trouble.  In  Ascrip- 
tion, Immanence,  Earth's  CompHnes  SLud 
other  poems  of  this  collection,  it  dis- 
appears completely,  and  the  cosmic 
process  presents  itself  with  equal  facil- 
ity as  under  the  direct  control  of  the 
Creator: 

O  Thou  wlii>  hast  beneath  Thy  hand 
The  dark  foundations  of  the  land. 
The  motion  of  whose  ordered  thought 
.'\n  instant  universe  hath  wrought. 

Who  hast  within  ihy  equal  heed 
The  rolling  sun,  the  ripening  seed. 
The  azure  of  the  speedwell  s  eye 
The  vast  solemnities  of  sky. 

Who  hear'st  no  less  the  feeble  note 
Of  one  small  bird's  awakening  throat. 
Than  that  unnamed,  tremendous  chord 
Arcturus  sounds  before  his  Lord. 

Every  age  has  its  own  language. 
Ascription  is  a  fine  new  igth  century 
dress  for  Addison's  Ode.  Instead  of 
"the  spacious  firmament  on  high" 
read  "the  vast  sublimities  of  sky,"  and 
for  the  "  spangled  heavens  proclaim," 
etc.,  read  "that  unnarned  tremendous 
chord"  which  Arcturus  sounds. 

These  philosophical  poems  are  an  in- 
teresting reflection  of  the  general  atti- 
tude of  our  age  in  matters  of  faith  and 
knowledge.  The  easy  way  in  which  it 
holds  in  its  mind  diverging  theories 
and  lines  of  thought  without  caring  to 
pursue  them  to  the  point  at  which  con- 
tradictions make  themselves  harshly 
felt,  accepting  each  to  some  extent  as 
having  its  truth,  bridging  over  difficul- 
ties with  a  hazy  logic,  and  waiting 
without  much  anxiety  for  a  solution 
which  will  preserve  all  it  wants  to  pre- 
serve, this  attitude,  very  characteristic 
of  the  Anglo-Saxon  mind  in  particular. 


424 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


has  much  practical  wisdom  in  it.      But  Or  this  from  Recessional: 

one   would    not    consider    the    poetry 

which  reflects  this  attitude  so  naively  JJ^'^^l'f'"'^  blossom,  blade  and  bee. 

,                11-              ..  -i-    ^-         ^      ^1       •  Worlds  must  eo  as  well  as  we, 

to  be  much  of  a  contribution  to  the   in-  i^  the  long  procession  joining 

terpretation  of  life.      There  are  some  Mount  and  star,  and  sea. 
sweet,  natural   notes,  however,  in  The 

Book  of  the  Native  when  the  poet   lays  Toward  the  shadowy  brink  we  climb 

aside  philosophic  theory,  which  is  gen-  ^^'f,  ^^^  ';°""'*  y^^^  rolls  sublime; 

,,    *^               ^                ^   c               ^-     c  Rolls,  and  drops,  and  falls  forever 

erally  a  poor  support  for  poetic  fancy,  i^  the  vast  of  time; 

and  gives  a  free  expression  to  what  he 

feels,  to  what  he  hopes  or  fears,  as  in  Like  a  plummet  plunging  deep 

this,  from  Kinship:  P»st  the  utmost  reach  of  sleep. 

Till  remembrance  has  no  longer 

Back  to  wisdom  take  me,  mother.  Care  to  laugh  or  weep. 
Comfort  me  with  kindred  hands; 

Teach  me  tales  the  worlds  forgetting  ^^^at  is  the  old  lyrical  note  of  Long- 

Till  my  spirit  understands.  .  ,,                   ,.     ,           "^     ,.<^     ,    .                 ,   " 

fellow,    a    little    amplified   by    modern 

Tell  me  how  some  sightless  impulse,  phrase,  but  still  simple  and  tender,  and 

Working  out  a  hidden  plan,  -^  ^^„,^„  4.^  u^  t-u^  r.-^..^.  „„*-  _„*    _   1 1. 

^jri-        jirrii  't  seems  to  be  the  note  most  natural  to 

God  for  kin  and  clay  for  fellow,  _    ,            .       ,                n       • 

Wakes  to  find  itself  a  man.  Roberts  in  those  reflective  poems. 

TO     BE     CONCLUDED 


A   RECKONING 

BY    THEODORE    ROBERTS 

'*  There  will  come  a  reckoning  with  England. 
♦  *  ♦  VVe  recognise  her  as  our  old  enemy, 
who  has  stood  in  the  path  of  Russian  develop- 
ment."— Prince  Hespere  Oukhtomsky. 

YE  who  would  reckon  with  England — 
Ye  who  would  sweep  the  seas 
Of  the  flag  that  Rodney  nailed  aloft 
And  Nelson  flung  to  the  breeze — 
Count  well  your  ships  and  your  men. 

Count  well  your  horse,  and  your  guns, 
For  they  who  reckon  with  England 
Must  reckon  with  England's  sons. 

Ye  who  wquld  challenge  England — 

Ye  who  would  break  the  might 
Of  the  little  isle  in  the  foggy  sea 

And  the  lion-heart  in  the  fight — 
Count  well  your  horse,  and  your  swords. 

Weigh  well  your  valour  and  guns, 
For  they  who  ride  against  England 

Must  sabre  her  million  sons. 

Ye  who  would  roll  to  warfare 

Your  hordes  of  peasants  and  slaves, 
To  crush  the  pride  of  an  empire 

And  sink  her  fame  in  the  waves — 
Test  well  your  blood  and  your  mettle. 

Count  well  your  troops  and  your  guns, 
For  they  who  battle  with  England 

Must  war  with  a  Mother's  sons. 


JE 


RU3S0 -JAPAN£3f^ 


WAK  PICTVRE5. 


GENERAL  NOGI  AND  STAFF  AT  PORT  ARTHUR 

The  great  siege  of  Port  Arthur,  which  closed  on  January  ist,  will  always  be 
memorable  in  military  annals.  The  greatest  reputation  in  connection  with  it  is 
that  which  comes  to  General  Nogi,  who  is  the  central  figure  in  this  group  of 
officers.  He  is  conspicuous  because  of  his  beard.  At  his  right  hand  is  Major- 
General  Ijichi,  who  was  the  officer  empowered  by  (he  Emperor  to  sign  the 
capitulation  papers  on  behalf  of  Japan.  The  centrepiece  on  the  table  is  a  six- 
inch  Russian  shell  which  adds  a  touch  of  grim  reality  to  this  memorable  picture 
of  a  memorable  historic  event. 


Photomapk  copyrighted  by  Underwood  &  Underwood,  New  York 


426 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


A   JAPANESE  CAMP   BEFORE    PORT  ARTHUR 


Here  are  pictured  the  shelter  tents  and  picketed  horses  of  a  part  of  the  Third 
Army  Division  of  the  Japanese  besieging  force,  in  a  valley  about  four  miles 
north  of  Port  Arthur.  The  barren,  rocky  nature  of  the  mountainous  country 
gives  a  desolate  air  to  the  landscape.  Even  at  this  distance,  shells  from  the 
big  siege  guns  at  the  Russian  batteries  occasionally  came  flying  over  the 
mountains  and  ploughed  up  the  ground  in  the  camp  where  they  burst.  This 
picture  was  taken  about  October  ist,  when  the  weather  was  still  warm  and  the 
sun  still  powerful. 

Photograph  copyrighted  by  Underwood  &  Underwood,  New  York 


RUSSO-JAPANESE  WAR  PICTURES 


427 


A   GROUP   OF   WOUNDED   JAPANESE 

This  picture  taken  about  October  ist  also  shows  how  strong  was  the  sun- 
light at  that  time.  The  enormous  number  of  wounded  Japanese  was  the  natural 
result  of  the  absolutely  fearless  charges  made  by  the  brave  soldiers  of  General 
Nogi's  army.  The  grim  horror  of  it  all  may  be  gathered  from  such  a  photo- 
graph as  this.  The  price  paid  for  Port  Arthur  was  great,  but  such  things  are 
likely  to  occur  again  and  again,  until  that  distant  time 

"  When  the  war  drum  beats  no  longer  and  the  battle-flag  is  furled." 


{Photograph  copyrighted  by  Underwood  &  Underwood,  New  York 


428 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


JAPANESE  SHELLS  NEAR  PORT  ARTHUR 


Some  idea  of  the  vast  quantities  of  large  shells  required  in  a  modern  siege 
may  be  gathered  from  this  unique  photograph.  Millions  of  dollars'  worth  of 
ammunition  were  expended  in  the  great  struggle  for  the  possession  of  Port 
Arthur.  These  shells  were  loaded  on  small  trucks,  running  over  temporary 
tracks,  and  thus  carried  to  feed  the  huge  and  hungry  siege  guns. 

Photograph  copyrighted  by  Underwood  &  Underwood,  New  York 


2LKHKC       PLOLGllINd    NKAK    ST.     I'Kl.MK 

AGRICULTURAL  PROGRESS 
IN  QUEBEC 

By  G.   BOROX 


HILE  the  eyes  of  many 
people  in  this  country  and 
elsewhere  have  been  turned 
towards  the  Northwest  as 
a  place  where  development 
was  proceeding  at  race-horse  speed, 
the  Province  of  Quebec  has  been 
developing  agriculturally  at  a  rate 
almost  unparalleled.  For  example, 
between  1891  and  1901,  the  value  of 
the  dairy  products  produced  in  the 
factories  of  that  province  increased 
341  per  cent. 

The  following  comparison  will  show 
how,  agriculturally,  Quebec  compares 
with  the  other  provinces: 

ANNUAL  VALUE  OF  FIELD  AND 
LIVE  STOCK  PRODUCTS 
1 90 1 

Ontario    8197,000,000 

Quebec 85,000,000 

Manitoba     24,000,000 

Nova  Scotia    16,000,000 

Territories 13,000,000 

New  Brunswick  13,000,000 

Prince  Eilward  Island    7,000,000 
British  Columbia    .  .        7,000,000 

It  will  thus  be  seen  that 
the  farms  of  Quebec  pro- 
duce more  annually  than  is 
produced  in  all  the  other 
provinces  and  territories 
put  together,  excluding  the 
Province  of  Ontario. 

4»9 


ITS  RESOURCES 

This  province  has  a  population  of 
1,700,000  people  and  an  area  of 
347,000  square  miles  or  as  much  terri- 
tory as  there  is  in  France  and  Prussia 
combined.  This  vast  district,  through 
which  runs  that  magnificent  waterway 
and  commercial  highway,  the  St. 
Lawrence,  is  only  barely  touched  by 
settlement  and  is  destined  to  become 
the  home  of  many  millions. 

Every  one  knows  the  almost  in- 
exhaustible resources  of  her  forest 
domain  from  which  the  largest  modern 
industries  seek  the  raw  material  which 
they   require.      Her  mineral  wealth   is 


NEW    QUEBEC — THE    HOISE   OK   GEORGE   ALDET,    A   NEW 
SETTLER    AT    PETITE    PERIBONKA.       IN    THE    FORE- 
GROUND   HIS    IS-VEAR-OLD   WIFE 


430 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


L^ 


QUEBEC— A    FIELD   OF   WHEAT    NEAR    HERBERTVILLE 


becoming  known  and  companies  and 
associations  in  increasing  numbers  are 
being  formed  every  day  to  excavate 
the  bowels  of  the  earth.  Nor  is  any 
one  ignorant  of  the  almost  unlimited 
capacity  of  her  water-powers  or  of  the 
boundless  forces  which  they  represent, 
and  capitalists  are  flocking  in  from  all 
quarters  and  starting  new  works  and 
factories  in  order  to  utilise  these 
natural  powers  which  are  capable  of 
operating  every  human  industry. 

The  fish  of  its  magnificent  rivers  and 
its  countless  lakes,  some  of  which  are 
veritable  inland  seas,  are,  every  year, 
acquiring  greater  value    through    the 


> 

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V '' 

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Hi 

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p 

JiS 

^■M 

jj^H 

NEW    QUEBEC — DWELLING    OF    MR.  VILLENEUVE,   ROBERVAL, 
COMPETITOR   FOR   AGRICULTURAL   MERIT 


more  perfect  and  rapid  means  of  com- 
munication and  transport.  Lastly,  the 
ever  increasing  visits  of  foreign  tour- 
ists and  the  patriotic  work  of  colonisa- 
tion have  revealed  to  the  entire  world 
the  almost  unlimited  extent  of  land 
suitable  for  cultivation  which  the  Prov- 
ince of  Quebec  is  ready  to  give  to 
those  who  are  willing  to  accept  it 
and  to  take  advantage  of  its  wealth 
of  fertility. 

RETROSPECT 

Vox  many  years  the  population  of 
the  Province  of  Quebec  was  composed 
almost  exclusively  of  farmers  who 
devoted  themselves  principally  to  the 
raising  of  crops  of  wheat 
and  other  cereals,  the  mag- 
nificent valley  of  the  St. 
Lawrence  with  its  immense 
plains  furnishing  them  with 
facility  for  the  pursuit  of 
that  industry.  The  popula- 
tion, which  was  small  in 
numbers  and  which  increas- 
ed so  slowly  during  the 
seventeenth  and  the  eight- 
eenth centuries,  was  con- 
fined chiefly  to  the  parishes 
bordering  the  St.  Lawrence, 
and  business  communica- 
tions were  limited  to  ex- 
changes between  the  neigh- 
bouring    parishes.      But 


AGRICULTURAL  PROGRESS  IN  QUEBEC 


43 « 


QUEBEC— BARNS,    HORSES   AND  CATTLE  OF   MR.    ELIB   LAPOINTE,   COMPETITOR   POR 
AGRICULTURAL    MERIT 


economic  conditions  having  become  en- 
tirely dfterent  throughout  the  world,  a 
prodigious  change  having  taken  place 
in  all  branches  of  human  endeavour,  the 
Province  of  Quebec,  irresistibly  drawn 
into  the  movement,  speedily  effected 
such  changes  in  its  then  existing  con- 
ditions, as  to  have  apparently  become 
a  new  country. 

In  agriculture  the  change  was  so 
great  that  at  this  very  time,  the  Cana- 
dian Northwest  having  become  an 
immense  producer  of  wheat,  the  prov- 
ince has  had  to  a  great  extent  to  give 
up  that  crop,  which  formerly  gave 
every  satisfaction  and  has  been  com- 
pelled to  turn  its  attention  in  another 
direction.  It  was  then  that  it  directed 
its  efforts  to  the  dairy  industry. 

In  this  it  entered 
a  field  entirely  its 
own  and  of  which 
it  may  continue  to 
be  the  unchallenged 
mistress,  as  all  the 
conditions  of  clim- 
ate and  cultivation 
which  it  is  possible 
to  desire  for  the 
assurance  of  its  suc- 
cess are  found  with- 
in her  borders. 


gained    from    the    following 


may    be 

figures: 

I-and     $248,236,261 

Buildings 102,313.893 

Rent  oF  land  and  buildings*  leased        1,039,212 
F"arm  implements  and  machinery     27,038,205 

Horses  24,164,149 

Milch  cows 20,757,611 

Other  horned  cattle 6,629,784 

Sheep 2,376,471 

S^vine 3,142,925 

Poultry  .  .  1,166,314 

Bees .  251,203 

Thoroughbred  stock  1,133,611 

The  progress  made  in  the  last  ten 
years  has,  as  intimated,  been  enor- 
mous, but  is  most  remarkable  in  the 
value  of  the  dairy  products.  This  has 
now  reached  twenty  million  dollars 
annually.     Of  this,  the  factories  pro- 


SOME    STATISTICS 

The  farmers  of 
Quebec  are  culti- 
vating five  million 
acres  of  land  and 
some  idea  of  the 
capital  involved 


iigcipier" 

liuimli 


QUEBEC - 


-DWELLING  OF   MR,    ELIE    LAPOINTE,    LA   MALBAIE, 
COMPETITOR    FOR    AGRICULTIRAL   MERIT 


432 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


FRENCH-CANADIAN    FAMILIES— MR.    OLIVIER 

CLOUTIER,   HIS  WIFE  AND  THIRTEEN  OF 

THEIR  EIGHTEEN  CHILDREN  (FIVE 

ARE  absent),  NORMANDIN 


duce  about  thirteen  million  dollars' 
worth,  and  the  rest  is  marketed  direct 
from  the  farm.  Of  this  thirteen  million 
dollars  received  by  the  cheese  and 
butter  factories,  over  eleven  million 
dollars  is  paid  over  to  the  farmer. 
The  number  of  factories  increased 
from  728  in  1891  to  1,992  in  1901,  pro- 
ducing eight  million  dollars'  worth  of 
cheese  and  five  million  dollars'  worth 
of  butter.  The  progress  during  the 
last  three  years  has  been  just  as  satis- 
factory as  during  the  previous  ten. 

The  dairying  progress  may  also  be 
indicated  in  another  way.  The  num- 
ber of  milch  cows  in  the  province 
increased  by  over  two  hundred  thou- 
sand during  the  census  period.  In 
1891  the  figures  were  549,544  and  in 
1901  they  were  767,825.  During  the 
same  period,  the  number  of  horses  and 
sheep  declined,  but  horned  cattle  other 
than  milch  cows  increased  from  419,- 
768  to  598,044. 

ORGANIZATION 

This  progress  has  been  accomplished 
in  a  considerable  measure  by  generous 
assistance  from  the  Government  of  the 
province,  although  the  general  agri- 
cultural progress  of  the  Dominion  has 
been  a  factor  in  the  situation.  There 
is  a  Department  of  Agriculture  at 
Quebec  with  a  responsible  minister, 
who  is  also  a  member  of  the  Executive 
Council  of  the  province.  There  is 
also  a  Council  of  Agriculture  composed 
of  twenty-three  members. 

Then  there  are  seventy-five  Agricul- 
tural Societies  with  a  membership  of 
18,295.  These  are  county  associa- 
tions working  in  harmony  with  the 
Department.  They  hold  meetings, 
discuss,  hear  lectures,  promote  the 
distribution  of  agricultural  literature, 
make  plans  for  improving  the  breed  of 
animals  and  the  quality  of  plants  and 
seed,  hold  exhibitions  and  do  other 
work  of  a  similar  nature.  Each  soci- 
ety receives  an  annual  grant  in  propor- 
tion to  the  number  of  members. 

There  are  Farmers'  Clubs,  the  oper- 
ations of  which  are  limited  to  the 
parishes  in  which  they  are   organised. 


AGRICULTURAL  PROGRESS  IN  QUEBEC 


433 


These  are  698  in  number,  with  a  total 
membership  of  52,700.  Each  receives 
an  annual  grant.  They  have  aban- 
doned having  exhibitions,  but  organise 
instead  many  competitions  in  crops, 
principally  with  the  object  of  increasing 
the  production  of  fodder  and  roots, 
and  the  employment  of  fertilisers. 

The  educational  institutions  specially 
devoted  to  the  education  are  numer- 
ous. There  are  three  Schools  of  Agri- 
culture, at  Oka,  Ste.Anne  de  la  Poca- 
tiere  and  Compton.  The  pupils  receive 
a  free  education  here.  There  is  a 
Dairy  School  at  St.  Hyacinthe  receiv- 
ing Government  assistance  and  another 
will  be  opened  shortly.  There  is  also 
a  Girls'  Training  School  at  Roberval 
with  a  model  farm  attached.  A  School 
of  Veterinary  Art  and  nine  Schools  of 
Arts  and  Manufactures  are  also  con- 
trolled by  the  Department  of  Agri- 
culture. 

There  are  other  agencies  used  by 
the  Government,  the  chief  of  which  is 
the  series  of  Competitions.  The  Com- 
petition of  Agricultural  Merit  was 
established  in  1890.  Eighty-five  per 
cent,  gives  "distinguished  merit," 
seventy-five  per  cent,  "great  merit" 
and  sixty-five  per  cent,  "merit."  The 
Competitions  of  Milch  Cows  are  sim- 
ilar, but  are  conducted  under  local 
auspices.  There  are  also  Competi- 
tions in  Products  of  the  Dairy.  The 
reports  published  on  these  Competi- 
tions are  valuable  and  instructive. 

THE   DAIRY   INDUSTRY 

As  stated  above,  the  dairy  industry 
is  to-day  the  leading  branch  of  agri- 
culture in  the  Province  of  Quebec,  and 
the  better  to  assure  the  diffusion  of  the 
knowledge  of  the  best  methods  of  con- 
ducting it  and  the  general  advance- 
ment of  this  industry,  the  province  has 
been  divided  into  regional  districts  in 
which  syndicates  of  proprietors  of 
creameries  and  cheese  factories  may  be 
formed.  There  are  now  fifty-two  syn- 
dicates for  the  manufacture  of  cheese, 
and  each  of  the  establishments  belong- 
ing to  or  forming  part  of  them  is 
visited  several  times  during  the  sum- 
mer by  inspectors,  experts  in  the  man- 


uf:«cture  of  the  products.  These  or- 
ganisations are  doing  most  valuable 
work. 

The  Government  also  employs  seven 
general  inspectors   to  visit  the  cheese 


434 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


FRENCH-CANADIAN    FAMILIES — MR.    DESROSIERS,    HIS   WIFE   AND   THEIR   THIRTEEN    CHILDREN, 

ST.    DAMASE,    COt'NTY   L'ISLET 


and  butter  factories  which  are  not  con- 
nected with  the  syndicates.  Their 
visits  have  already  produced  most 
excellent  results.  The  local  inspector 
has  charge  of  a  group  of  factories  sit- 
uated in  a  comparatively  limited  dis- 
trict which  he  can  easily  visit  in  a 
month.  The  result  is  that  the  factor- 
ies in  this  district  are  visited  regularly, 
the  instruction  afforded  is  the  same  to 
all,  and  a  greater  uniformity  in  the 
quality  of  the  product  is  assured. 

In  addition  to  the  premiums  granted 
for  the  construction  of  creameries  and 
cheese  factories,  the  Provincial  Gov- 
ernment assists  in  the  construction  of 
suitable  buildings  for  the  ripening  of 
the  cheese  to  the  extent  of  from  one  to 


two  hundred  dollars,  according  to  the 
dimensions  of  the  building. 

MEANS   OF   COMMUNICATION 

The  roads,  formerly  left  entirely 
under  the  care  of  the  municipalities, 
had  fallen  into  such  a  lamentable  con- 
dition that  every  person  complained 
that  the  wretched  highways  in  most 
parts  of  the  country  not  only  injured 
agricultural  industries,  but  in  many 
cases  actually  paralysed  them. 

Realising  the  importance  of  putting 
an  end  to  this  disastrous  state  of  affairs, 
the  Minister  of  Agriculture  offered  to 
pay  to  each  municipality  the  sum  of  sev- 
enty-five dollars  towards  the  purchase 
of  a  machine  for  repairing  the  roads. 


QUEBEC - 


-A   LANDSCAPE   ON   THE   SHORES   OF   THE   CHAMOUCHOUAN    RIVER,    ST. 
LAKE   ST.    JOHN 


FELICIEN, 


AGRICULTURAL  PROGRESS  IN  QUEBEC 


435 


This  far-sighted  proposal 
bore  immediate  fruit,  and  a 
fair  number  of  municipalities 
took  advantage  of  the  offer 
of  the  Minister. 

Further,  the  County  Coun- 
cils have  been  asked  to  pur- 
chase stone-breaking  ma- 
chines for  metalling  the 
roads,  and  the  Government 
comes  to  their  assistance  by 
paying  half  the  price  up  to  a 
sum  of  $1,200.00.  In  num- 
bers of  localities  there  is 
noticed  the  desire  to  put  an 
end  to  that  spirit  of  inert- 
ness which  has  always  pre- 
vailed, and  at  the  same  time 
the  determination  to  adopt 
all  modern  improvements 
both  in  methods  and  in  im- 
plements which  lead  so  sure- 
ly and  rapidly  to  the  results 
desired  to  be  attained. 
CONCLUSION 

Enough'evidence  has  been 
given^to  show  the  magnifi- 
cent development  which  ag- 
riculture is  attaining  in  the 
Province  of  Quebec.  It  is  a 
transformation  so  thorough, 
so  vast,  and  so  rapidly 


HON.    S.    N.    P.ARENT 
Premier  of  the  Province  of  Quebec,  Minister  of  Lands, 
Mines  and  Fisheries;  also  Mayor  of  the  City  of  Quebec 


HON.    ADELARD   TLRGEON 

Up  io  a  recent  date  Minister  of  Agriculture  in  the  Province  of 
Quebec.     He  has  been  in  the  legislature  since  1890.  and  a 
minister  since  1897.   He  is  a  lawyer,  but  has  con- 
ducted  his  department  with  considerable  skill. 


brought  about,  that  it  almost  confounds 
the  intellect. 

A  small  people,  almost  unknown  to 
the  rest  of  the  world,  who  had  up  to 
that  time  led  a  patriarchal  life,  attend- 
ing solely  to  the  cultivation  of  wheat, 
and  passing  a  happy  existence  in  their 
isolation,  are  suddenly,  through  an  up- 
heaval in  general  economic  conditions, 
compelled  to  turn  all  their  attention 
and  efforts  to  agriculture  in  a  direction 
absolutely  new  to  them,  the  creation 
and  carrying  on  of  the  dairy  industry. 
Silently,  without  noise  or  bustle,  and 
with  a  quiet  courage  and  reliance  upon 
their  own  powers  and  resources,  they 
undertook  the  task,  and  after  a  rela- 
tively very  short  period  of  time  they 
have  become  one  of  the  most  expert  in 
the  new  industry  and  one  of  the  most 
important  purveyors  of  dairy  products 
for  the  other  continent.  And  when  we 
consider  the  immense  resources  of  this 


436 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


THE    LEGISLATIVE    BUILDINGS   AT    QLEBEC 


small  people  by  reason  of  the  expan- 
sion they  are  capable  of  giving'  to  the 
manufacture  of  butter  and  cheese,  may 
we  not  reasonably  ask  whether  a  time 
shall  not  come  when  they  will  monop- 
olise this  industry  and  reap  the  advan- 
tages it  affords  ? 

Finally,  looking  at  things  from  all 
points,  if  we  consider  that  the  popula- 
tion of  the  Province  of  Quebec  exer- 
cises the  same  spirit  of  industry,  the 
same  bold  spirit  of  energy,  the  same 
working  and    business   intelligence  in 


all  their  undertakings  and  in  all  the 
various  sources  of  activity  existing  in 
the  favoured  land  which  they  occupy, 
and  if  we  further  take  into  considera- 
tion the  moral  qualities  for  which  they 
are  distinguished,  their  powers  of  ex- 
pansion, their  deep-seated  attachment 
to  their  native  land,  and  the  abiding 
conviction  that  they  have  a  providen- 
tial mission  to  carry  out  on  the  soil  of 
America,  we  are  justified  in  coming  to 
the  conclusion  that  a  brilliant  future  is 
in  store  for  this  favoured  people. 


CANADIAN  CELEBRITIES 

NO.    60-PROP\    JAMES   W.    ROBERTSON 


HEN  James  Wilson  Robert- 
son came,  a  lad  of  eighteen, 
to  this  country  in  1875,  he 
had  one  or  two  consider- 
able advantages.  One  was 
that  he  had  been  born  a  Scotchman. 
Another  was  the  sound  secondary  edu- 
cation which  Scotland  had  given  him. 
A  third  was  a  habit  of  accepting  re- 
sponsibility, and  a  turn  for  thinking 
out  the  problems  of  daily  life.  And 
another  was  the  driving  force  which 
lay  within  him.      By  race  he  is   an   en- 


grafting of  the  Highlander  upon  a 
Lowland  land-holding  stock  of  great 
tenacity.  The  restless  energy  of  the 
Celt  was  based  upon  the  Lowlander's 
cool  power  of  organisation. 

The  Robertsons  engaged  in  business 
— prospered — lost  their  money.  Young 
Robertson  wished  to  become  a  physi- 
cian— that  bent  of  mind  has  never  left 
him,  and  early  hopes  and  studies  influ- 
enced him  when  he  threw  himself  into 
advocacy  of  the  Victorian  Order  of 
Nurses,  and  into  support  of  the  cam- 


CANADIAN   CELEBRITIES 


437 


PROF.  JAMBS  W.    ROBERTSON 


paign  against  tuberculosis.  But  edu- 
cation meant  money.  That  money 
must  come  from  the  family  business. 
The  family  business  was,  in  part,  the 
buying  of  dairy  products  for  export 
to  Britain;  a  knowledge  of  the  dairy 
business  would  help  to  put  it  on  its 
feet.  Moreover,  he  would  have  the 
winters  in  which  to  study.  So  reason- 
ing, the  lad  set  himself  to  learn  the 
cheese-maker's  trade.  It  was  not  highly 
regarded;  there  were  no  dairy  schools; 
he  must  learn  to  do  by  doing;  and  so 
he  went  to  work  at  S13  a  month  in  a 
factory.  Conditions  were  disagree- 
able; the  work  included  floor-scrub- 
bing; the  occupation  was  far  from  that 
which  a  youth  of  Robertson's  station 
would  ordinarily  choose.  But  it  was 
the  work  which  suited  the  situation. 
For  one  winter  he  attended  Woodstock 
College,  and  it  was  Professor  S.  J. 
McKee,  instructor  in  English,  who 
had  the  most  vital   influence  over  him. 


Meanwhile  he  learned  cheese-making, 
and  as  a  member  of  the  family  busi- 
ness he  found  himself  manager  of  a 
cheese  factory.  It  became  one  of  the 
best  in  the  country.  Then  he  managed 
several  factories — his  brand  was 
famous.  The  winter  months  he  gave 
to  reading  and  the  study  of  literary  and 
scientific  subjects.  The  young  man, 
now  28,  still  hoped  to  go  to  the  uni- 
versity. It  is  one  of  his  innumerable 
theories  that  a  man  should  not  go  to 
the  university  until  he  is  in  the  thirties. 
But  the  Ontario  Government  inter- 
vened. It  made  the  successful  man- 
ager Professor  of  Dairying  in  the 
Ontario  Agricultural  College. 

Here  we  have  the  man  on  the  thresh- 
old of  his  public  career,  about  to  plunge 
into  a  whirl  of  activities.  Inside  of 
three  months  he  would  be  in  London, 
pulling  the  Ontario  dairies  exhibit  at 
the  Colonial  and  Indian  Exhibition  out 
of  threatened  disaster,  and  exercising 


438 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


his  invincible  knack  of  catching  the 
public  eye.  Soon  he  would  be  scour- 
ing the  country,  restlessly  preaching 
co-operation  and  organisation  in  the 
dairy  business.  He  himself  reads 
formative  influences  in  every  event  of 
his  past.  In  childhood  responsibility 
had  been  laid  upon  him,  and  the  habit 
of  thoroughness.  Both  had  become 
passions.  In  youth  he  had  borne  a 
part  in  a  temperance  lodge.  From 
that  experience  he  had  carried  away  a 
training  in  getting  into  touch  with 
other  minds,  of  appreciating  an  audi- 
ence, of  getting  into  sympathy  with  it, 
of  trying  to  change  the  opinions  of  the 
men  who  composed  it.  He  had  not 
been  arguing  abstract  propositions; 
he  had  not  been  pleading  to  a  brief; 
he  had  been  feeling  for  the  minds  of 
his  hearers  and  seeking  to  turn 
them  into  channels  through  which 
his  own  passionate  intellect  raced. 
Again,  for  years  he  had  taught  a  coun- 
try Bible-class.  He  had  exerted  him- 
self to  grasp  his  pupils'  difficulties;  he 
had  cast  about  for  means  to  get  their 
interest.  That  was  his  pedagogical 
training.  He  had  the  habit  of  esti- 
mating situations,  and  of  disregarding 
the  customary  to  take  the  course 
which  his  thinking  indicated.  Also, 
he  had  formed  his  method  of  organisa- 
tion. Get  a  piece  of  work  well  done — 
then  use  it  as  a  text  to  induce  others 
to  do  the  same  thing  on  a  larger  scale. 
Do  something  in  a  small  sphere  first — 
then  organise  for  its  wider  application. 
That  is  the  method  of  a  man  who  is 
uncommonly  good  at  organisation  and 
singularly  successful  in  getting  things 
done. 

Of  course  there  was  class-room 
work  at  Guelph.  It  was  done  in 
such  a  way  that  from  1888  to  1890  he 
was,  in  addition,  non-resident  lecturer 
in  Dairy  Husbandry  at  Cornell  Uni- 
versity. But  the  class-room  could  not 
confine  his  energies.  A  speaker  of  in- 
fectious enthusiasm,  a  deviser  of  innu- 
merable plans,  he  ranged  the  province 
as  a  lecturer  to  farmers  and  dairymen. 
For  a  time  he  would  brood  over  and 
experiment  with  new  schemes  at 
Guelph,   then  he  would  rush  forth  and 


preach  them.  It  was  a  big  work  to  try 
to  move  hard-headed  farmers,  industrial 
conservatives  for  the  most  part,  slow 
to  take  fire  over  new  ideas,  distrustful 
of  the  theorist,  but  endowed  with  an 
intelligence  which  is  strong  if  obstin- 
ate. When  the  college  professor  faced 
an  audience  he  had  made  sure  of  his 
acquaintance  with  the  characters,  the 
circumstances,  and  some  of  the  diffi- 
culties and  desires  of  his  hearers.  He 
had  made  very  sure  of  the  facts  which 
he  meant  to  offer  them.  He  watched 
his  audience;  he  sought  for  their  sym- 
pathy; he  studied  clearness  of  exposi- 
tion. Two  facts  may  be  noted.  He 
made  copious  use  of  parables.  He 
travelled  with  a  pocket  Shakespeare, 
and  prepared  himself  for  a  meeting, 
not  by  looking  over  notes  and  authori- 
ties, but  by  an  hour  or  two  of  reading, 
sometimes  of  Shakespeare,  sometimes 
of  Tennyson,  sometimes  of  Isaiah, 
three  very  great  masters  of  phrase. 

Robertson's  work  falls  into  periods. 
By  1890  the  organisation  work  which 
he  had  commenced  in  1886  was  fairly 
on  its  way.  It  is  his  outstanding 
peculiarity  that  he  initiates  movements 
and  when  they  are  launched  searches 
for  something  new.  He  was  looking 
forward  to  his  hoped-for  period  of  pro- 
fessional study,  when  the  Dominion 
Government  appropriated  his  energies. 
It  made  him  Dairy  Commissioner. 
Agricultural  Agitator  would  have  been 
an  apter  title.  He  flew  about  the  Do- 
minion, everywhere  planning  and  or- 
ganising, everywhere  an  originating 
mind  and  a  driving  force,  everywhere 
adapting  himself  to  local  conditions. 
Force  and  ingenuity  were  equally 
marked  in  his  methods.  For  example, 
he  has  uncanny  expertness  as  a  press- 
agent.  Here  is  one  crafty  scheme 
which  he  steadily  works  upon  Ca- 
nadian journals.  He  is  on  excellent 
terms  with  British  newspapers.  He 
gets  copious  interviews,  letters,  state- 
ments, into  them.  Then  the  Canadian 
press  copies  what  it  might  have  hesi- 
tated to  take  direct.  In  1886,  when 
he  was  in  London,  he  plunged  into 
the  Home  Rule  controversy,  then  the 
absorbing  topic,   writing    letters    urg- 


CANADIAN  CELEBRITIES 


439 


in^  that  the  salvation  of  Ireland  lay, 
not  in  Home  Rule,  but  in  cheese  and 
butter — as  instanced  by  Canada.  Natur- 
ally there  followed  a  few  details  of 
Canadian  progress  in  the  making  of 
cheese  and  butter! 

Who  can  tell  the  tale  of  the  Profes- 
sor's activities  since  1890?  It  is  one 
of  his  practices  to  take  up  at  least  one 
new  movement  every  year.  Dairy  or- 
ganisation, live  stock  improvement, 
seed  selection,  chicken  farming,  fruit 
inspection,  cold  storage,  market  find- 
ing— the  list  is  long.  By  1899  he  was 
beginning  to  think  that  this  period  of 
his  life  was  closing.  His  agricultural 
work  was  so  well  established  that  there 
were  many  to  continue  it.  Perhaps 
that  season  of  study  was  ahead.  Of 
course  it  was  not.  The  Macdonald 
manual  training  fund  was  awaiting 
him.  The  idea  behind  manual  train- 
ing appealed  to  his  own  development 
through  the  uses  of  necessity.  He 
flung  himself  into  the  scheme.  Sir 
William  C.  Macdonald  gave  the  money, 
Professor  Robertson  gave  the  familiar 
energy  and  the  well-tried  organising 
skill.  Like  all  his  plans,  he  stood  by 
this  till  it  had  taken  root,  and  then  left 
it  to  be  carried  on  by  local  authorities. 
Of  what  use  is  an  institution  which  re- 
quires its  founder's  incessant  super- 
vision? If  it  is  to  be  useful,  it  must 
so  appeal  to  the  people  that  they  them- 
selves will  keep  it  running.  Such  is 
the  Robertson  point  of  view.  But 
from  manual  training  and  experimental 
seed  selection  grew  the  movement  to 
reorganise  rural  schools.  And  from 
the  consolidated  rural  schools  grew 
the  plans  for  the  great  Macdon- 
ald institution  at  Ste.  Anne  de  Belle- 
vue.  He  is  on  the  threshold  of  another 
division  of  his  life.  Since  Egerton 
Ryerson  no  man  has  done  anything 
vital  for  primary  and  secondary  educa- 
tion in  Canada.     Will  Robertson? 

The  man  is  forty-seven  now,  and 
looks  forward  to  twenty  years  more  of 
activity  such   as  he  has  known   since 


1886.  Tall  and  lean — face  lean  too, 
cheeks  and  jaw  falling  abruptly  from 
an  overhanging  brow — grizzled  mous- 
tache,ihickandclipped — bright  blue  eye 
— on  the  whole  face  a  somewhat  over- 
cast expression  of  grim,  serious  earnest 
— the  Scottish  burr  still  thick  on  the 
tongue — there  you  have  his  outward 
seeming.  Inwardly,  there  is  the 
strange  mixture  of  burning  enthusiasm, 
rapid,  perhaps  hasty,  thinking,  and 
cool  sagacity  in  practical  things.  The 
man  is  eager,  impatient,  changeable 
even,  interested  in  his  projects  in  their 
earlier  stages  mainly,  ready  to  catch 
at  new  plans,  chock  full  of  ideas  and 
schemes.  Many  see  that  side  most 
clearly.  It  may  be  doubted  whether 
all  his  theories  are  founded  on  cer- 
tainty. But  he  does  things.  When 
he  made  cheeses  they  sold  at  record 
prices.  The  agricultural  movement 
with  which  he  was  so  prominently  as- 
sociated, has  gone  far  and  no  longer 
needs  his  presence.  For  a  man  deal- 
ing so  much  in  organisation,  he  is  no- 
ticeably independent  of  machinery.  In 
his  dairy  work  he  set  a  different  type 
of  organisation  going  in  every  prov- 
ince. Organisation  for  him  has  meant 
scope — the  ability  to  undertake  more; 
economy — the  ability  to  do  work  at 
least  cost  of  labour,  material  and  time; 
and  efficiency — the  ability  to  do  better 
work  with  better  results.  Until  the 
time  for  these  came  he  dispensed  with 
machinery.  The  work  always  has 
counted,  not  the  manner  of  doing  it; 
one  of  his  traits  is  his  intense  satisfac- 
tion in  good  work.  And  another  thing 
must  be  noted.  He  is  able  to  work 
with  other  men.  The  efficiency  and 
enthusiasm  of  his  staff  is  a  significant 
fact. 

The  tall,  lean  man  with  the  intent 
look  of  serious  interest  on  his  face  is  a 
Force  in  Canada.  He  has  done  much 
for  our  greatest  industry.  He  is  about 
to  try  to  render  a  similar  service  to  our 
education.      Good  luck  go  with  him! 

Frederick  Hamilton. 


"  Strangers,  and  yet  not  strangers  " — p.  442 
Drawn  by  F.  H.  Brigden 


THE  BUILDERS 


^TTtT) 


i         bxEricBohn4i 

Author  of  ''How  Hariman    Won'' 


Kesumb — Harold  Manning,  an  officer  in  the  looth  Regiment,  which  is  ordered  to  Canada 
for  service  in  the  War  of  1812,  has  just  been  married  in  London.  He  secures  the  consent  of 
the  Colonel  to  take  his  wife  to  Halifax,  and  on  the  overland  trip  to  Georgian  Bay.  They  sail 
for  Halifax  on  H.M.S.  North  Ktng,  arriving  safely  after  a  six  weeks'  voyage.  Prepara- 
tions are  at  once  made  for  the  rest  of  the  trip.  In  the  meantime  Mrs.  Manning  becomes 
acquainted  with  Mrs.  Mason,  wife  of  the  commandant  of  the  Citadel,  and  other  persons  The 
annual  military  ball  is  about  to  take  place. 


CHAPTER  X. 

THE  old  Citadel  was  brilliantly  illum- 
inated. Lights  gleamed  in  every 
window.  The  snow  was  shovelled 
clean  from  the  footpaths  and  guards- 
men had  made  smooth  the  drives  for 
incoming  sleighs.  The  full  moon 
shone  with  softened  lustre  from  a  cloud- 
less sky,  filling  the  air  with  voiceless 
music,  and  enveloping  with  chastened 
beauty  the  wide  stretches  of  ice  and 
snow  which  mantled  the  earth. 

Within  the  Citadel  a  bevy  of  pretty 
girls,  aided  by  the  junior  officers,  had 
decorated  the  doors  and  windows  with 
elaborate  care.  Festoons  of  cedar, 
sprigs  of  holly  and  bunches  of  red  ber- 
ries, softened  the  light  from  the 
candelabra,  while  innumerable  lamps 
of  archaic  design  added  variety  and 
beauty  to  the  scene. 

The  ballroom  was  decorated  with 
bunting,  and  on  the  walls  hung  na- 
tional and  colonial  flags — those  of  the 
lOOth  being  added  to  do  honour  to  the 
occasion  ;  while  the  vice-regal  chair 
was  surrounded  with  rugs  of  rich  and 
rare  texture.  In  a  tSte-i-t6te  corner 
to  the  left  of  the  main  entrance,  lux- 


urious, long-haired,  polar  bear  skins 
littered  the  floor,  while,  on  the  opposite 
side,  the  feet  of  the  guests  sank  deep 
in  rich  furs  from  the  West. 

**  What  a  characteristic  room!" 
exclaimed  Helen,  as  she  stood  for  a 
moment  at  the  wide  entrance,  leaning 
on  the  arm  of  her  husband.  "  I  never 
saw  so  many  flags  and  beautiful  skins 
in  one  room  in  my  life."    • 

"Nor  I  either.  Still  the  setting  is 
appropriate.  The  flags  are  a  token  of 
the  present  war,  and  the  skins  a  trophy 
of  the  huntsman's  prowess.  Furs  are 
one  of  the  main  products  of  the  country, 
you  know." 

"  I  wonder  if  it  can  produce  as  many 
women,"  said  Helen,  glancing  over  the 
hall.  "  There  are  few  but  men  here 
yet." 

"All  the  more  triumph  for  the 
women  who  are,"  was  his  answer. 

The  Governor  and  Lady  Sherbrooke, 
together  with  Mrs.  and  Colonel  Mason 
and  Sir  George  Head,  were  receiving 
when  they  entered  ;  and  officers  of  the 
garrison  and  the  North  Kingy  as  well 
as  civilians  with  their  wives  and 
daughters,  were  being  presented. 


442 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


••May  I  have  the  honour  of  the 
opening  quadrille  with  you  ? "  said 
Colonel  Mason  to  Helen  a  few  minutes 
later. 

*•  I  shall  be  only  too  happy,"  was  her 
answer.  But  a  faint  flush  suffused  her 
cheek,  for  she  would  rather  have 
danced  the  opening  number  with  her 
husband. 

'•The  guests  are  still  coming,  but 
the  quadrille  will  be  soon.  Au  revoir 
until  then." 

Harold  and  she  passed  on.  More 
than  a  dozen  ladies  had  by  this  time 
arrived,  most  of  them  young  and 
some  very  pretty,  with  white  shoulders 
and  graceful  figures.  Not  a  few  had 
flashing  diamonds,  brought  by  their 
mothers  from  the  Old  Land  over  the 
sea,  and  they  sparkled  like  the  eyes  of 
their  winsome  wearers  as  they  mingled 
with  the  men. 

••  How  pretty  they  are!"  said  Harold 
sotto  voce',  ''as  fresh  as  if  new  from 
England." 

"  I  don't  see  any  ot  the  blue-noses 
they  talk  about,"  Helen  returned. 
'•  It  must  be  a  healthy  climate,  Harold, 
if  it  is  cold." 

At  this  moment  Judge  and  the 
Misses  Maxwell  were  announced.  The 
Judge,  a  large  and  portly  man,  crowned 
with  periwig,  had  a  keen,  intelligent 
face.  He  was  accompanied  by  his  two 
daughters.  One  was  of  the  large  blonde 
type,  with  blue  eyes  and  flaxen  hair 
always  smiling  in  a  decided  way  of  her 
own.  The  other.  Miss  Maud,  was 
cast  in  a  different  mould.  No  one 
would  have  taken  them  for  sisters. 
Slight  in  build  and  quick  in  movement, 
there  was  a  winsome  charm  about  her, 
that  was  very  engaging.  Perhaps  the 
most  distinguishing  feature  in  her  man- 
ner was  her  strong,  unconscious  frank- 
ness. Her  features  were  regular  and 
her  eyes  almost  black,  while  her  wealth 
of  dark  hair  and  sweet  countenance 
combined  to  make  her  irresistibly  charm- 
ing. One  would  think  from  the  colour 
of  her  hair  and  eyes  that  she  should 
have  been  a  brunette  ;  but  her  skin 
was  exquisitely  white,  and  the  petal  of 
a  delicate  rose  seemed  to  have  planted 
its  hue  upon  her  cheek. 


In  attire  the  two  young  ladies 
differed  as  much  as  in  personal  appear- 
ance. Miss  Maxwell  was  dressed  in 
white;  but  Maud  had  a  robe  of 
chameleon  hue,  that  reflected  in 
changeable  lustre  every  flash  of  light 
that  fell  upon  it  from  the  chandeliers 
above.  The  delicate  fullness  revealed 
by  the  low  corsage  was  partially  hid- 
den by  a  bunch  ot  violets  from  her  own 
indoor  garden,  while  a  little  circlet  of 
pearls  and  minute  diamonds  flashed 
upon  her  neck. 

••What  character  there  is  in  that 
face!"  said  Helen  to  Mrs.  Mason  a 
moment  later,  as  the  Colonel  joined 
her  for  the  dance. 

••  Yes,  there  is.  Would  you  like  to 
know  her?" 

'*  I  would  indeed!" 

"  I  will  introduce  her  after  the 
quadrille  is  over." 

•'Thank  you." 

Sir  John  Sherbrooke  escorted  Mrs. 
Mason  to  the  upper  end  of  the  room. 
Then  came  Sir  George  and  Lady  Sher- 
brooke, followed  by  Captain  Osborne 
and  one  of  the  colonial  dames,  while 
Colonel  Mason  and  Helen  brought  up 
the  rear.  Together  they  formed  the 
set  for  the  opening  quadrille — and 
stately  and  beautiful  it  was  as  Helen 
remembered  long  afterwards. 

All  eyes  were  fixed  upon  the  four 
couples.  With  elaborate  bows  and 
graceful  formality  they  stepped  through 
the  figures  of  the  dance.  The  meas- 
ured music  from  the  violins  and  harps 
beat  a  slower  time  in  the  days  of  our 
forefathers  than  now;  and  there  was  a 
dignity  and  solemnity  in  the  first  dance 
of  the  period — almost  equivalent  to  the 
sacred  decorum  of  a  religious  rite — 
that  in  this  rushing  age  has  been  for- 
gotten. 

'•Mrs.  Manning — Miss  Maud  Max- 
well," said  Mrs.  Mason  after  the  dance 
was  over.  •'You  young  ladies  have 
each  expressed  a  desire  to  know  each 
other." 

As  they  clasped  hands  and  looked 
into  each  other's  eyes,  several  seconds 
passed  away— ^thoughts  seemed  to  be 
uttered  without  words. 

••  Strangers,  and  yet  not  strangers,'* 


THE  BUILDERS 


443- 


said   Helen,  "  I   could  almost  fancy  I 
had  known  you  for  years. " 

"  It  must  be  the  same  feeling,"  said 
Maud,  still  holding  the  extended  hand, 
"a  delicious  joy  in  seeing  you, 
although  we  never  met  before. " 

•'It  is  all  owing  to  the  talk  you  have 
made  among  us,"  said  Mrs.  Mason, 
taking  each  young  lady  by  the  arm 
and  leading  the  way  to  one  of  the  tete- 
i-t^te  corners  already  referred  to. 
"  Maud  was  always  ambitious,  head- 
strong, wayward.  Perhaps  a  little 
chat  between  you  two  will  do  each 
good.  There,  I  will  leave  you,  but, 
with  so  many  gentlemen  and  so  few 
ladies,  I  cannot  guarantee  a  minute  by 
yourselves." 

"  Would  you  care  for  a  companion 
in  your  journey  west,  Mrs.  Manning?" 
Maud  asked  in  a  swift,  low  voice,  as 
Mrs.  Mason,  accepting  the  arm  of  an 
officer,  left  them.  She  must  speak 
while  the  chance  lasted. 

"  Perhaps  I  would,"  was  Helen's 
startled  answer,  "but  after  all  that  is 
said  against  it,  I  fear  that  I  could  not 
conscientiously  advise." 

"It  would  be  simply  glorious  to  go," 
said  Maud,  enthusiastically.  "  Out  in 
the  starry  night  with  the  trees  crack- 
ing and  the  wolves  howling,  while  you 
are  rolled  up  in  your  buffalo  robes, 
snug  and  warm,  and  safe  from  all 
danger." 

"You  young  enthusiast!  What  a 
splendid  companion  you  would  make!" 

"  Would  I?"  and  the  girl's  eyes 
flashed  fire.      "Oh,  if  I  only,  could!" 

At  this  moment  Mrs.  Mason  re- 
turned to  introduce  another  gentleman. 

"  Mrs.  Mason,"  said  Helen,  as  they 
arose  from  their  seat,  "  do  you  know 
that  Miss  Maud  Maxwell  would  like  to 
be  one  of  our  party?" 

"That  is  not  surprising,"  was  the 
answer.  "  I've  known  Maud  ever 
since  she  was  a  baby,  and  she  was 
always  a  Tomboy." 

"  Why  traduce  my  fair  name?"  said 
Maud  with  a  laugh. 

"  My  dear,  is  it  not  true?" 

"  Please  don't  be  so  pathetic.  I'd 
like  to  go;  that  is  all." 

"  And  you   really  mean    it,"    Helen 


asked,  looking  gravely  into  the  girl's 
face. 

"  Yes,  I  do.  But,  I  suppose,  there 
will  be  little  chance.  Father  would 
oppose  it,  and,  no  doubt.  Sir  George 
would  also.  Still  I  would  give  any- 
thing to  go  with  you.  But  I  am 
engaged  for  this  waltz — Mrs.  Man- 
ning— Doctor  Beaumont." 

And  she  whirled  away  with  him  as 
Harold  joined  them.  Helen  followed 
the  doctor  for  some  moments  with  her 
eyes.  His  face  had  a  French  cast, 
although  his  skin  was  fairer  and  his 
hair  lighter  than  is  usually  found  in 
that  race. 

"The  doctor  is  devoted  to  Maud," 
said  Mrs.  Mason,  "although  I  do  not 
think  she  cares  for  him." 

"Is  he  the  surgeon  who  is  to  go 
with  the  regiment  ?"  Harold  asked. 

"  I  think  not.  Dr.  Fairchild  is  the 
man  spoken  of.  I  suppose  I  should 
not  mention  it,  but  as  you  are  one  of 
the  officers,  it  would  do  no  harm  to 
tell  you.  I  believe  that  Dr.  Beaumont 
would  like  to  ^o.  It  will,  however,  be 
decided  to-morrow." 

"Thank  you  for  telling  us,"  said 
Helen.  "  I  suppose  it  is  out  of  the 
question  about  Miss  Maud  going." 

"  Entirely  out  of  the  question,"  re- 
turned the  elder  lady,  emphatically. 
"  If  they  should  happen  to  appoint  Dr. 
Beaumont  she  would  not  dream  of  go- 
ing. H-m  h-m,"  she  continued,  wisely 
shaking  her  little  grey  head,  "that 
throws  new  light  upon  it — I  do  not 
believe  she  will  really  want  to  go!" 

"My  dear,  if  we  do  not  commence 
we  shall  lose  our  waltz,"  exclaimed 
Harold,  laughing.  "It  is  half  through 
already. " 

"  A  thousand  pardons,  dearie.  It  is 
our  first  since  we  were  married.  I 
wouldn't  miss  it  for  the  world,"  and 
her  winsome  smile  thrilling  him  again, 
as  it  had  always  done,  they  glided 
away  over  the  smooth  floor. 

The  next  afternoon  Maud  visited 
Helen  at  the  Citadel. 

"Our  little  chat  remained  unfin- 
ished," were  almost  her  first  words. 
"I  did  not  get  a  chance  to  speak  to 
you  again." 


444 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


"  You  were  sensibly  occupied,  and  I 
forgive  you,"  returned  Helen.  "  I 
know  I  danced  more  than  I  have  done 
for  years,  and  yet  only  managed  to 
have  two  waltzes  with  my  husband." 

"I  like  Lieutenant  Manning,"  re- 
turned Maud.  '*  I  had  a  polka  with 
him,  and  his  chivalry  took  me,  for  he 
stopped  before  our  dance  was  over  to 
escort  old  Mrs.  Tindall  across  the 
room.  Most  young  men  would  have 
let  the  lady  look  after  herself." 

"  I  knew  what  I  was  doing  when  I 
married  Harold,"  said  Helen  with 
glowing  face.  "You  see,  I  think  so 
muth  of  my  husband  that  I  am  will- 
ing to  travel  to  the  ends  of  the  earth 
with  him." 

"  I  would  have  to  love  a  man  like 
that  or  I  would  never  marry,"  said 
Maud. 

"You'll  find  him  some  day,  if  you 
have  not  already.  And  what  about 
Penetanguishene  ?  Do  you  still  desire 
to  be  one  of  our  party  ?" 

"  Yes  and  no,"  was  the  girl's  reply, 
her  mouth  assuming  for  a  moment  a 
set  expression.  "I'm  afraid  I  said 
too  much  last  night.  Much  as  I  would 
like  to  go  I  find  it  will  be  impossible, 
so  there  is  no  use  even  thinking 
about  it." 

"Perhaps  later,  when  our  fort  is 
built  and  the  war  over,  you  will  come." 

"Possibly;"  and  her  eyes  melted  into 
a  dreamy  expression.  "  Let  me  thank 
you  for  the  suggestion.    If  I  can  I  will." 

"It  is  probably  better  so,"  said 
Helen,  puzzled  at  such  a  speedy 
change  of  attitude. 

At  this  moment  Mrs.  Mason  entered 
the  room. 

"I  have  just  received  the  latest 
news,"  she  said.  "  It  was  announced 
at  the  officers'  quarters  this  morning 
that  Dr.  Beaumont  has  received  the 
appointment  as  surgeon  to  the  looth. 
Colonel  Mason  told  me  only  a  few  min- 
utes ago." 

Helen  involuntarily  glanced  at  Maud, 
but  at  this  moment  the  frank  expres- 
.  sion  was  absent.  Did  she  know 
already  ? 

"  Is  not  this  a  surprise  ?"  said 
Helen.      "  Of  course  I   knew  nothing 


about  the  appointment  only  that 
rumour  last  evening  gave  the  place  to 
Dr.  Fairchild." 

"  So  it  did,"  said  Mrs.  Mason,  "but 
his  father  is  not  well,  and  can  ill  spare 
him.  Perhaps  that  is  the  reason  of 
the  change." 

"I  have  just  been  taking  back  some 
of  my  own  foolish  talk  of  last  night," 
said  Maud,  looking  directly  at  Mrs. 
Mason.  "  My  sudden  fancy  of  going 
west  with  the  regiment  was  inspired 
by  the  fortitude  of  this  brave  lady — 
just  an  enthusiastic  idea  that  cannot 
be  realised." 

"  But  she  has  promised  to  visit  me 
at  Lake  Huron  after  the  war  is  over," 
said  Helen. 

"The  very  time  you  ought  to  go 
yourself,"  was  her  hostess'  comment. 

Mrs.  Mason  was  one  of  those  kind- 
hearted  ladies  who,  having  no  children 
of  their  own,  consider  it  their  duty  to 
interest  themselves  in  the  children  of 
others.  She  always  had  two  or  three 
of  her  young  lady  friends  under  her 
wing;  and  was  never  contented  unless 
endeavouring  to  pilot  them  to  their  des- 
tined haven.  She  must  not  only  guide 
them  aright,  but  see  also  that  they  did 
not  go  wilfully  wrong.  That  Maud 
Maxwell  — in  her  estimation  —  the 
sweetest  girl  in  all  Halifax,  should  be 
allowed  to  go  on  that  desperate  west- 
ern journey  was  not  to  be  thought  of 
for  a  moment.  If  she  could  not  pre- 
vent the  newly-arrived  bride  from  sac- 
rificing herself  on  the  altar  of  a  "  crazy 
idea,"  she  pertainly  could  prevent  Maud 
from  following  suit.  At  all  events  she 
had  decided  to  try. 

What  passed  in  the  way  of  curtain 
lectures  between  Colonel  Mason  and 
his  spouse  after  the  ball  was  over, 
there  was  no  one  to  tell;  but  the  celer- 
ity with  which  the  medical  appoint- 
ment was  discussed,  decided  upon  and 
ratified  when  morning  came,  was 
somewhat  remarkable.  Sir  George 
and  Colonel  Mason  were  closeted  to- 
gether for  half  an  hour  after  breakfast; 
and  then  a  couple  of  orderlies  were 
summoned,  and  messages  dispatched 
to  both  of  the  doctors,  containing  the 
results  of  the  decision.      As  a  conse- 


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445 


quence,  Dr.  Beaumont's  mind  was 
filled  with  conflicting  ideas  when  he 
received  the  message.  The  first  im- 
pression was  surprise,  for  he  believed 
it  had  been  otherwise  arranged.  Still, 
as  the  decision  was  final,  he  must  obey. 
But  the  thought  of  Maud  disturbed 
him.  To  leave  her  at  once  might 
render  his  unreturned  love  hopeless. 
If  he  could  have  remained,  possibly 
he  might  win  her  yet;  but  to  go  away 
now  and  stay  perhaps  for  years,  with 
the  attentions  and  hearts  of  other  men 
continually  at  her  feet,  seemed  more 
than  he  could  bear. 

Still  there  was  the  other  side  to  view. 
The  post  of  surgeon  to  the  looth  was 
a  distinct  promotion;  for  he  and  Dr. 
Fairchild  were  both  army  officers;  and 
it  flattered  the  spirit  of  rivalry  which 
existed  between  them  to  be  selected 
over  his  fellow.  The  illness  of  Dr. 
Fairchild's  father  was  quietly  hinted  to 
both  gentlemen  as  the  probable  cause 
of  the  change;  but  the  possibility  that 
Mrs.  Mason  might  have  had  something 
to  do  with  the  final  appointment,  was 
not  thought  of,  much  less  mentioned. 

The  die  was  cast,  however,  what- 
ever would  come  of  it,  and  Dr.  Beau- 
mont realised  that  he  must  prepare  at 
once  for  the  journey.  The  mixed  blood 
of  his  parentage  had  made  a  strong 
man  of  him;  for  he  possessed  the  pas- 
sion and  vehemence  of  the  Frenchman 
from  his  father,  tempered  by  the  sto- 
lidity and  integrity  of  the  Scotch  race 
from  his  mother. 

After  reporting  himself  at  head- 
quarters, and  rapidly  making  prepara- 
tions for  the  prospective  march,  it  was 
late  in  the  evening  before  he  could 
spare  time  to  call  at  the  Judge's.  He 
had  sent  no  message  to  Maud.  Still 
he  hoped  and  believed  that  she  would 
be  ready  to  receive  him.  She  must 
have  heard  of  his  appointment.  Would 
she  be  glad  or  sorry?  How  would  she 
welcome  him?  Was  it  possible  that 
she  would  rejoice  at  being  relieved  of 
the  attentions  of  an  unwelcome  suitor? 
Or  was  it  imaginable  that  she  would 
be  glad  of  his  promotion,  and  reward 
his  devotion  by  encouragement  on  the 
very  eve  of  his  departure? 


At  any  rate  he  would  see  and  know 
the  truth;  and  after  walking  past  the 
house  several  times  to  soothe  his  nerves 
and  check  the  rapid  beating  of  his 
heart,  he  finally  knocked  at  the  door 
for  a  final  interview  with  Maud. 

CHAPTER  XI. 

HENRI  BEAUMONT,  although  a 
native  of  Quebec,  was  a  graduate 
of  an  English  University,  and  it  was  in 
London,  after  obtaining  his  degree, 
that  he  received  his  appointment  on 
the  medical  staff  of  a  British  regiment 
under  orders  for  Canada.  For  two 
years  now  he  had  been  stationed  at 
Halifax  and,  although  during  the  war 
with  the  United  States  he  had  seen 
some  active  service,  his  duties  had 
been  chiefly  confined  to  professional 
work  among  the  troops  stationed  at 
the  Citadel. 

It  was  there  that  Maud  met  him. 
Perhaps  if  she  had  been  less  indifferent, 
the  conquest  would  not  have  been  so 
easily  accomplished.  But  the  impres- 
sion was  made  at  the  beginning,  and 
notwithstanding  her  apparent  coolness, 
time  only  seemed  to  strengthen  his 
desire  to  win  her. 

His  heart  was  in  a  tumult  as  he 
entered  the  house  that  night — hope  and 
expectation  did  not  balance  each  other 
— and  minutes  elapsed  after  meeting 
Maud  before  the  loud  throbs  beneath 
his  jerkin  ceased. 

'*  I  am  sure  you  heard  the  news?" 
he  said  retaining  the  hand,  which  she 
attempted  to  withdraw.  ' '  I  am  ordered 
to  be  ready  to  march  with  Sir  George's 
men  in  two  days." 

"  Yes,"  she  replied,  finally,  retract- 
ing her  hand,  "and  1  congratulate 
you.  Your  friends,  while  sorry  to  lose 
you,  will  be  glad  of  your  promotion." 

"That  is  very  kind;  but  I  would 
give  the  world  to  know  that  some  one 
really  cared." 

He  was  growing  serious  already. 
So  she  threw  back  her  head  and  with 
a  gentle  laugh  exclaimed: 

"  Oh,  my  dear  Doctor,  you  don't 
know  how  much  we  shall  miss  you!" 

"  Mon   Dieu,   Miss  Maud!    That   is 


446 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


very  well.  But  you  know  what  I 
mean.  When  I  go  away  I  can't  return 
for  a  year  at  least.  It  is  the  time,  the 
absence  that  I  think  of.  Won't  you 
give  me  a  chance  at  all?  You  know 
how  I  love  you." 

**  You  have  your  chance  now,  Doctor 
— founding  a  fort — establishing  a 
settlement — perhaps  building  a  city. 
That  should  be  enough  for  any  man  to 
face. " 

'*  But  it  is  not  enough,  mon  ami." 
The  Doctor's  face  flushed  and  his  eyes 
glittered  as  he  drew  his  chair  nearer. 
**  I  want  my  love  returned.  I  have 
kept  myself  straight  and  pure  for  love 
of  you.  Mademoiselle!  Do  you  care 
for  me  at  all?  Will  you  not  give  me 
one  promise  before  you  go?" 

He  was  pleading  very  earnestly,  a 
gleam  of  intense  love  illuminating  his 
face.  Maud's  manner  softened  a  little, 
although  she  felt  no  responsive  thrill. 
She  was  not  sure  of  her  own  heart, 
and  was  too  wise  to  bind  herself  when 
she  experienced  no  warmer  feeling  than 
that  of  friendship. 

"  You  ask  me  more  than  I  can  give," 
she  said,  "If  I  do  not  love  you,  how 
can  I  promise?" 

"Have  I  a  rival  then?"  he  asked 
with  passionate  earnestness. 

**  How  dare  you  ask  such  a  ques- 
tion !"  she  answered  with  flushed  face. 
**  I  am  in  love  with  no  one." 
,  "Then  why  not  grant  my  desire? 
In  my  heart  no  one  can  take  your  place. 
For  long  months  I  shall  see  only  one 
other  lady,  and  she  the  wife  of  a  brother 
ofBcer.  But  I  will  found  a  settlement 
and  build  a  city,  too,  if  you  will  only 
promise  to  be  my — my  sweetheart — 
when  I  come  back  again." 

"Oh!  you  silly  man!  I  promise  noth- 
ing. Why  not  simply  wait  and  see? 
When  away  on  your  long  march  (she 
did  not  tell  him  how  gladly  she  would 
have  undertaken  it  herself  if  he  had 
not  been  going)  your  mind  and  time 
will  be  occupied  with  other  things. 
You  will  never  think  of  me." 

"Never  think  of  you!"  he  exclaimed 
passionately.  "  Perhaps  it  would  be 
better  for  me  if  I  never  did.  But  I 
shall  think  of  you  every  day  when  on 


the  march  and  every  night  when  in  the 
woods  we  pitch  our  camp.  When  the 
smoke  arises  from  the  pipes  of  the  men 
around  our  fires,  my  thoughts  will  be 
of  you;  and  when  rolled  in  blanket  and 
buffalo  robes,  during  the  long  winter 
night,  I  may  see  the  stars  through  the 
tall  trees,  and  hear  the  owls  hooting  in 
the  forest;  but  beyond  the  stars  I  shall 
see  your  face,  and  in  my  dreams  I  shall 
hear  your  voice.  No,  Maud  Manning, 
I  may  go  away,  but  you  cannot  get 
away  from  me.  You  fill  my  soul,  my 
heart,  my  whole  being.  You  are  my 
star,  my  light,  my  love, — and  it  will 
be  the  same  in  Penetang,  no  matter 
where  you  are." 

Spite  of  herself  his  words  thrilled 
her,  and  unconsciously  she  rose  to  her 
feet.  She  could  not  sit  still  any 
longer.  What  manner  of  man  was 
this  French-Scotchman  ?  This  pas- 
sionate pleader,  this  determined  lover? 
This  soldierly  fellow,  who,  while  he 
worshipped  her,  accepted  the  order  to 
march  to  the  end  of  the  earth,  for  time 
indefinite,  without  a  single  murmur  of 
regret  ?  She  had  never  until  now  been 
seriously  impressed  with  his  personal- 
ity. She  had  seen  the  impulsive, 
demonstrative  side  of  his  nature,  but 
its  integrity  and  strength,  its  staunch 
chivalry  and  unselfish  devotion,  were 
something  quite  new  to  her — and  it 
was  with  a  feeling  not  unlike  rever-- 
ence  that  she  heard  his  last  words.  A' 
species  of  humility  almost  akin  to  love 
was  gradually  stealing  over  her.  ' 

"  I  am  sorry,"  she  said  at  last,  but 
her  voice  this  time  was  low  and  sweet. 
"I  should  have  told  you  sooner." 

"Told  me  what?"  he  exclaimed 
eagerly.  "That  you  never  could  love 
me  ?" 

"  No,  not  that."  His  intensity  was 
so  great,  so  real,  that  she  dreaded  the 
future  that  seemed  imminent  in  his 
face.  She  must  give  him  hope,  how- 
ever slight,  until  time  could  soothe  the 
vivid  chords  of  his  being;  and  until  she 
could  read  aright  the  inmost  thoughts, 
of  her  own  heart. 

"  What  then  ?"  was  his  question. 

"Can  you    not    suggest    something/ 


THE  BUILDERS 


447 


else  ?     We  have  always  been  friends," 
she  said. 

*'  Promise  me  to  remain  free  for  a 
year?  I  will  do  my  best  and  come 
back  then,"  he  said. 

"Yes,  Monsieur  le  Docteur,  for  one 
more  year  I  will  not  love  anyone,  for 
one  more  year  I  will  be  free."  And 
the  tone  filled  his  soul  with  music. 
The  cloud  was  raised — the  veil  was 
lifted. 

••  And  I  will  write,"  he  said.  "  Will 
you  answer?" 

"Yes,"  was  her  quiet  response. 

"  Yet,  oh,  Mon  Dieu!  Think  of  the 
weary  months  of  waiting,"  was  his 
comment,  but  his  face  had  lost  its  sad- 
ness. 

They  stood  together  under  the  chan- 
delier. He,  excited,  determined,  pas- 
*  sionate,  with  love  in  every  look  and 
gesture;  but  controlling  himself  by  a 
strong  effort — She,  introspective,  ob- 
servant, wary;  and  yet  with  a  warmer 
kindliness  toward  her  companion  than 
she  had  ever  felt  before. 

"  I  must  go,"  he  said  at  last.  "Just 
a  kiss  to  seal  our  friendship."  And  he 
threw  his  arm  out  to  clasp  her  to  him. 
But  with  one  step  backward  she 
raised  the  hand  that  was  held  in  his, 
and  the  kiss  fell  upon  it — instead. 

"Good-bye  and  God  be  with  you," 
she  said. 

"And  may  He  keep  you  until  I  re- 
turn," was  his  prayer,  "  but  shall  I 
not  see  you  again?  There  may  be  time 
enough  to-morrow  ?" 

"It  would  be  better  not." 

She  stood  at  the  door  and  watched 
him  descend  the  steps.  Then  he 
turned,  and  with  a  last  look  and  a 
sweep  of  his  chapeau  he  disappeared 
into  the  darkness. 

CHAPTER   XII 

ON  the  day  of  the  march  the  tempera- 
ture was  almost  down  to  zero,  and 
the  sky  a  clear,  pale  blue.  The  order 
had  been  issued  for  the  little  column  to 
be  ready  at  nine  o'clock  sharp;  and, 
cold  as  it  was,  the  whole  town  was 
astir.  Union  Jacks  were  flying  in 
honour  of  the  occasion;  and  many  peo- 


ple were  out  on  the  street  to  witness 
the  departure.  The  few  days  that  had 
elapsed  since  the  arrival  of  the  North 
King  had  not  passed  idly  away.  A 
score  of  teams  had  been  purchased. 
Long  sleighs,  bob-sleighs,  carryalls, 
had  all  been  secured,  and  many  of 
them  loaded  with  goods  that  Captain 
Payne  had  brought  over  the  sea  for 
the  building  and  provisioning  of  the 
prospective  fort.  Then  there  were  fur 
robes  and  blankets;  kettles,  pots  and 
tins  for  the  journey;  stoves  of  all  sorts 
and  provisions  for  the  men;  fodder  and 
blankets  for  the  horses;  as  well  as  the 
reserve  supply  of  ammunition,  all 
packed  in  capacious  sleighs,  with 
drivers  ready  and  horses  snorting  im- 
patiently for  the  order  to  start. 

Punctual  to  the  minute,  the  compa- 
nies lined  up  in  the  square  by  the 
Citadel. 

SleighsforSirGeorge  and  theofficers, 
one  for  Helen  and  Harold  and  another 
for  the  soldiers' wives,  were  there  in  reg- 
ular order.  Then  came  the  heavy  sledges 
of  the  commissary  department,  and 
last  of  all  the  "bobs,"  containing  the 
building  supplies  and  ordinance  outfit 
for  the  new  fort  at  Penetang. 

As  the  bell  of  the  little  old  church  on 
the  hill  struck  nine  a  salute  of  two  guns 
from  the  Citadel  was  fired  in  honour  of 
the  event.  Adieus  had  all  been  said; 
hand-shaking  was  over;  and  as  the 
shrill  tones  of  the  bugles  sounded  the 
order  to  march  was  given.  Then  the 
crowd  cheered  and  the  sleighs  started 
upon  their  long  journey;  while  the  sol- 
diers in  heavy  overcoats,  marching 
in  file,  and  brought  up  the  rear. 

For  the  commencement  of  such  a 
journey  the  day  was  excellent.  The 
roads  were  good,  the  snow  well  packed; 
and  soon  the  procession  of  ponies  and 
sledges  commenced  to  swing  along  at 
a  rapid  rate. 

"  Put  my  coat  collar  higher,  please," 
said  Helen  to  her  husband  as  they 
neared  the  outskirts  of  the  town. 
Quick  driving  had  made  her  feel  the 
cold  air  more  keenly. 

"Will  that  do?"  he  asked. 

"  Yes,"  she  replied.  "  It  keeps  the 
wind   out.     These  hot  bricks  for  the 


448 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


feet  are  delightful.  What  a  glorious 
day  for  a  ride!  But  look  at  that  big 
snow  bank  right  in  front  of  us! 
Bateese!  don't  upset  us,  please!" 

"  Bateese  navare  upset.  Et  is  only 
de  dreef,"  returned  the  Frenchman, 
and  with  a  crack  of  his  whip  he  circled 
around  the  sloping  end  of  the  bank  as 
the  other  drivers  had  done  before  him. 

It  was  not  so  nearly  an  upset  as 
Helen  imagined;  but  she  breathed  more 
freely  when  the  huge  pile  of  snow  was 
behind  them. 

"  Do  we  meet  many  drifts  like  that?" 
she  asked  a  little  timidly,  for  it  was 
her  first  experience. 

"Oh!  dat  is  noting,"  replied  Bateese, 
tossing  his  head,  "  but  dere  is  a  great 
big  wan,  high  as  yer  head,  right  on  de 
slope  by  de  beeg  hill,  jess  befor'  you 
cam'  to  de  lumber  camp — Gar — he  be 
a  fine  wan." 

And  the  Frenchman  cackled  and 
cracked  his  whip  again. 

"Still  we  can  pass  it  all  right?" 
said  Harold. 

"  Nevare  can  tell,"  returned  Bateese, 
shrugging  his  shoulders.  "  It  ees  on 
de  end  of  a  heel,  where  two  winds 
meet — an  'eet  may  be  flat  as  de  diable 
in  de  mornin' — an'  so  big  at  night  dat 
you  couldn't  see  ovare  de  top  if  you 
was  ten  feet  high." 

"How  then  do  you  manage?"  in- 
quired Helen,  who,  seeing  a  twinkle  in 
the  eye  of  Bateese,  was  regaining 
courage. 

"  Oh  some  tarn  you  go  'roun',  some 
tam  over  top  after  deegin'  de  snow  awa 
— and  some  tam,"  he  continued  very 
impressively,  "you  make  a  tunnel — 
camp  all  night  in  de  meedle — and  deeg 
out  on  t'oder  side  next  day." 

"And  what  do  you  do  with  your 
horses  while  camping?"  Harold  asked, 
in  an  amused  tone. 

"Oh!  dat's  easy,"  replied  Bateese 
with  perfect  gravity.  "We  jess  deeg 
places  for  dem  beside  de  camp — don't 
have  go  out  in  de  cole  to  feed  em. 
Dey  eat  snow  for  vater,  and  de  leetle 
fire  keep  us  all  warm." 

"That's  a  pretty  good  one,  Bateese." 

"Oh  no,  jess  a  leetle  wan;  tell  you 
some  more  bime-by." 


And  the  Frenchman's  infectious 
laughter  was  joined  in  by  both  Helen 
and  Harold  as  they  scudded  to  the 
jingle  of  the  sleigh  bells  merrily  along 
the  road. 

In  a  couple  of  hours,  the  riders  had 
left  the  heavy  sledges  and  the  soldiers 
far  behind.  They  had  passed  the  prin- 
cipal clearings.  Open  fields  became 
less  frequent,  and  the  stretches  of  for- 
est more  continuous.  Sir  George  had 
inquired  minutely  into  the  nature  and 
difficulties  of  the  road;  and  although 
he  believed  that  the  march  for  days 
would  be  outside  of  the  war  arena,  he 
had  sent  forward  a  strong  scouting 
party  to  reconnoitre. 

The  direction  they  were  taking  for 
the  first  part  of  the  journey  was  almost 
due  north,  following  the  sleigh  track, 
which  finally  joined  the  Truro-road 
along  the  banks  of  the  Shubenacadie. 

The  troops  and  heavy  sledges  would 
come  up  later,  but  the  order  was  to 
make  the  first  halt  at  a  lumber  camp 
on  their  line  of  march,  at  which  arrange- 
ments were  already  being  made  by  the 
scouting  party  for  their  reception.  By 
noon  the  Colonel's  sleigh  headed  the 
file  at  the  top  of  a  long  hill.  Dr. 
Beaumont  was  with  him. 

"There  it  is!"  he  cried.  "Yonder 
are  the  scouts." 

"You  know  the  place  then?"  said 
Sir  George. 

"Yes,  I've  often  been  here.  Mr. 
Mackenzie  has  one  of  the  finest  lumber 
camps  in  Nova  Scotia.  See,  he  is  out 
now  talking  to  Sergeant  Banks." 

"A  thrifty  Scotchman,  eh?  I  hope 
Banks  has  managed  it.  I  would  like 
the  whole  troop  to  dine  at  the  camp 
without  touching  our  rations.  You 
can  settle  with  Mr.  Mackenzie  after- 
wards," he  concluded,  turning  to  Cap- 
tain Payne. 

"It  will  be  a  great  relief,"  returned 
the  latter,  "and  give  us  a  longer  march 
this  afternoon.  Nothing  like  making 
a  good  start  on  the  first  day. " 

The  Sergeant  saluted  as  they  drove 
up. 

"Mr.  Mackenzie,  this  is  our  Colonel," 
he  said,  touching  his  cap. 

And  a  tall,  massively  built  Scotch- 


THE  BUILDERS 


449 


man,  with  shaggy  hair  and  rugged 
features,  grasped  Sir  George's  hand 
warmly. 

"Your  men  have  been  telling  me 
about  you,  sir,"  he  exclaimed.  "I  am 
glad  to  see  you.  You  must  a'  be 
hungry  after  your  cold  ride.  The 
cook's  doin'  his  best  to  gie  ye  all  a 
bite.  Come  right  in.  Your  men  can 
feed  their  horses  at  the  stable.  Guid 
sakes,  you've  got  a  leddy  with  ye!  and 
some  women  folk  too!"  and  he  finished 
by  doffing  his  hat  gallantly  to  Helen. 

"Yes,  we  are  hungry  and  glad  to 
call  a  halt,  Mr.  Mackenzie,  and  I 
know  Mrs.  Manning  will  be  tired 
enough  to  rest." 

Here  Harold  introduced  his  wife  and 
the  group  went  inside.  The  huge 
shanty  was  built  entirely  of  logs,  the 
inside  walls  hewed  flat,  the  chinks 
filled  with  wood  and  then  covered  level 
with  plaster.  One  side  of  the  long 
wall  was  not  more  than  six  feet  in  alti- 
tude, but  the  opposite  one  was  twice 
as  high  to  allow  for  the  sloping  slab 
roof.  Scattered  along  the  two  sides 
were  a  series  of  little  windows,  while 
in  the  far  end  a  pile  of  dry  logs  was 
burning  brightly  in  a  huge  fireplace. 
Dining  tables  of  pine  boards,  supported 
on  crossed  sticks,  stretched  the  length 
of  the  room  and  were  already  laden 
with  platters  and  cups  in  preparation 
for  the  meal.  The  cross-head  table 
was  built  in  a  similar  manner,  but 
instead  of  benches  on  either  side,  there 
was  an  array  of  chairs;  and  perhaps  in 
honour  of  the  occasion,  clean  white 
sheets  were  spread  upon  it  for  the 
coming  meal. 

The  rough,  homely  comfort  about 
the  place  seemed  attractive  after  the 
cold  drive,  and  elicited  warm  compli- 
ments from  the  Colonel. 

"Oh,  it  will  do  for  the  woods," 
returned  Mackenzie,  good-humouredly. 
"We  keep  our  men  warm  and  comfort- 
able and  feed  'em  well.  The  conse- 
quence is  that  they  like  the  job;  and 
every  man  of  'em  is  glad  to  come  back 
to  the  camp  when  the  season  opens 
again." 

"  But    does    not    the    war    interfere 


with   your  work  and  make  your  men 
enlist?"  the  Colonel  asked. 

"  Yes,  sometimes,  but  it  is  a  good 
thing  to  have  a  reputation.  If  peace 
was  declared  to-morrow,  I  could  get 
twice  the  men  I  need.  As  it  is,  half 
the  young  men  in  the  colony  have 
listed.  And  yet  I  have  all  I  want. 
But  dinner  is  almost  ready,  so,  Sir 
George,  you  and  your  men  might  put 
your  things  in  my  office  here — and  Mrs. 
Manning,"  he  exclaimed  with  another 
bow,  "  I  haven't  got  a  leddy's  boudoir, 
but  if  you're  not  afraid  of  an  old  bach- 
elor's quarters,  you  might  fix  and  rest 
yourself  in  my  own  den." 

"  I  shall  be  only  too  glad,"  returned 
Helen.  "This  big  shanty  is  so  com- 
fortable I  am  sure  I  should  be  too  warm 
if  I  kept  my  furs  on." 

"  Well,  just  make  yourself  at  home. 
You  are  welcome  to  any  little  thing  I 
can  do  for  ye.  But,  ma  sakes,  what 
became  o'  the  other  weemen  ?" 

"Oh,  they  went  off  to  the  men's 
kitchen  with  their  husbands,"  returned 
Sir  George.  "  V^ou  know  Corporal 
Bond  and  Private  Hardman  were  of 
the  reconnoitring  party." 

After  closing  the  heavy  doors  of 
Mackenzie's  den  Helen  laid  her  wraps 
upon  his  bed.  Looking  about  her  she 
soon  discovered  a  mirror,  and  without 
delay  arranged  her  hair.  Then  she 
washed  in  the  pewter  bowl  and  sat 
down  in  his  arm-chair,  the  only  seat  io 
her  room.  Soliloquising,  she  began 
to  realise  what  was  before  her. 
Through  the  little  window  she  saw 
that  the  shanty  was  close  to  the  woods, 
an  impenetrable  forest  closing  in  on 
every  side.  Only  half  a  day  out  from 
Halifax  and,  notwithstanding  the  pres- 
ence of  her  husband,  in  a  certain  sense, 
alone.  And  if  alone,  when  blessed 
with  the  rude  comforts  of  the  log  camp 
and  the  generous  cordiality  of  the 
owner,  what  must  it  be  when  out  in 
the  forest  night  after  night  through  all 
the  long  months  of  the  winter?  There 
could  be  no  shadow  of  turning  now — 
no  possibility  of  retreat.  Still  she  did 
not  lament.  It  was  only  that  life 
seemed  more  tense — more  binding — 
infinitely  more  positive  and  real! 


450 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


A  few  minutes  later  Harold  came  for 
lier,  and  they  joined  Mr.  Mackenzie, 
Sir  Georg-e  and  the  officers  at  the  head 
table  in  the  big  hall  of  the  shanty. 
Their  host  placed  Helen  to  his  right 
hand  and  Sir  George  to  his  left; 
then  the  big  gong  sounded,  and  the 
shantymen  in  smock-frock  and  blue 
jean  overalls  filed  in  and  took  their 
places. 

"That's  a  motley  crowd,  Sir  George," 
said  Mr.  Mackenzie.  They  could  easily 
be  observed  by  the  Colonel,  for  his 
seat  commanded  a  view  of  the  whole 
room. 

"  I  see  you  have  many  nationalities 
here — German,  English,  Scotch,  Irish, 
French,"  said  Sir  George. 

*•  But  Johnny  Canucks  are  on  top 
every  time,"  was  the  answer.  "  They 
stand  the  work  well  and  make  fine 
lumbermen.  They  have  their  peculiari- 
ties though.  See  how  they  spread 
their  molasses  on  their  pork  instead  of 
their  bread." 

"Like  the  Dutchman  sleeping  on 
straw  with  his  feather  bed  on  top  of 
him." 

"Or  the  Irishman  with  his  potatoes 
and  point." 

"Yes,  but  the  French  and  the  Dutch 
make  the  most  of  it,  while  Pat  contents 
himself  with  a  joke." 

"And  on  it  he  fattens,"  returned 
Mackenzie  with  a  laugh.  "But  I  tell 
you  my  men  are  well  fed;  the  grub's 
rough  but  wholesome  and  we  often  eat 
a  calf  or  a  deer  at  a  meal  besides  a  pile 
of  other  stuff.  Our  table  doesn't  differ 
much  from  theirs  either,"  he  continued, 
"but  to-day  in  honour  of  our  guests, 
particularly  Mrs.  Manning  and  your- 
sel'.  Sir  George,  I  told  the  cook  to  make 
it  extra  fine.  By  George,  he's  sending 
us  griddled  tenderloin,  roast  turkey 
and  stuffed  partridges  as  well." 

Then  they  had  baked  potatoes,  cran- 
berry sauce,  saluratus  cakes  and  tea. 

"  We've  only  got  brown  sugar,  Mrs. 
Manning,  I'm  sorry  to  say,"  he  con- 
tinued, turning  to  Helen,  "and  unfor- 
tunately our  coos  are  all  dry." 

"It'sagenuinefeast,"returned  Helen, 
**  and  I'm  thirsty  enough  to  drink  any- 
thing. "     With  an  effort  she  controlled 


the  muscles  of  her  face  as  she  drank 
the  beverage.  Lumber-camp  tea  in 
those  days  was  a  nauseous  drink  to  any 
one  but  the  woodsmen  themselves. 

By-and-bye  the  meal  was  over,  and 
Helen  made  a  hasty  run  to  the  kitchen 
department  to  see  what  the  women 
were  doing.  The  lumbermen  too  filed 
out  of  the  room  to  make  way  for  the 
soldiers  who  at  that  moment  were 
marching  down  the  hill.  They  were 
hungry  after  their  long  tramp  and  did 
not  require  a  second  bidding  when 
word  came  that  the  tables  were  ready. 

In  offering  to  settle  for  the  meal  so 
freely  granted,  the  response  was  a 
surprise  to  Sir  George. 

"Take  pay  for  a  feed?"  cried  the 
Scotchman  with  a  laugh.  "Not  much; 
I  reckon  we  can  stand  it  without 
smashing  the  camp.  Thank  ye  kindly 
though." 

"  This  is  too  generous  altogether," 
was  the  protest. 

"Not  at  all,"  replied  Mackenzie. 
"  Scotch  bodies  are  canny,  but  when 
they  say  a  thing  they  mean  it." 

"Well!  We'll  not  forget  you, "said 
Sir  George,  as  he  grasped  the  generous 
donor  by  the  hand.  "  Perhaps  some 
day  our  turn  will  come." 

Soon  the  teams  were  ready  again, 
and  several  of  the  marching  officers 
took  the  places  of  those  who  had 
ridden.  The  result  was  that  Chaplain 
Evans  was  assigned  to  a  seat  in  Helen's 
sleigh  while  Harold  walked  with  his 
men. 

"It  can't  be  helped,"  said  the  Lieu- 
tenant as  he  gave  his  wife  a  moment- 
ary caress.  "I  will  have  to  ride  and 
march  turn  about  until  Quebec  is 
reached.  But  you  are  in  good  com- 
pany and  there  is  no  danger." 

"Well,"  replied  Helen,  forcing  a 
laugh,  "absence  will  make  your  pres- 
ence all  the  dearer,  so  good-bye, 
sweetheart." 

"Until  to-night,"  was  his  answer; 
and,  throwing  her  another  kiss,  he 
placed  himself  at  the  head  of  his  men. 

"How  much  farther  do  we  go  to- 
day?" Helen  asked  of  Sir  George  who 
came  to  speak  to  her  for  a  moment 
before  getting  into  his  sleigh. 


THE  BUILDERS 


451 


"About  fifteen  miles  I  think?  We 
want  to  camp  at  Shubenacadie  to- 
night. There  will  be  accommodation  in 
a  settler's  house  for  you  and  the  wo- 
men, but  for  the  rest  of  us,  the  men 
will  have  to  put  up  shanties  and  the 
sooner  we  get  away  the  better.  The 
scouting  party  went  ahead  two  hours 
ago  on  snowshoes,  so  they  will  have 
them  started  when  we  arrive." 

"But  what  after  to-night?"  said 
Helen. 

"I'm  afraid  we'll  have  to  camp, 
women  as  well  as  men,"  said  the 
Colonel  with  a  shrug ;  and  stepping 
into  his  sleigh,  the  cavalcade  started. 

CHAPTER  XIII 

FOR  more  than  an  hour  that  after- 
noon the  drive  was  rapid,  the 
country  less  undulating  and  the  road 
smoother.  Still  the  way  was  always 
through  the  woods.  Tall  pines  every- 
where stretched  skyward,  while  on  the 
lowlands,  ashes  and  elms  spread  out 
their  grey  branches,  in  vivid  contrast 
to  the  evergreen  above.  Scrub  oaks 
on  the  hillocks  still  carried  the  dead  red 
leaves  of  the  past  year;  while  here  and 
there  a  beech  or  a  maple  added  its 
varied  beauty  to  the  winter  landscape. 

Although  the  road  lay  for  miles 
along  the  banks  of  the  Shubenacadie 
its  waters  could  only  occasionally  be 
seein.  Now  and  then  a  wider  vista 
opened,  and  a  bit  of  the  dashing  river, 
rendered  free  here  and  there  by  a  more 
rapid  current,  added  picturesqueness  to 
the  view.  At  other  places  the  bed  of 
the  stream  was  covered  with  ice,  save 
for  an  occasional  rollway,  where  the 
lumberer  had  piled  his  saw  logs  thickly 
upon  its  broken  surface. 

The  drivers  had  covered  more  than 
half  the  distance  to  the  proposed  camp, 
when  they  reached  the  top  of  a  long 
ridge  stretching  out  on  either  side. 
At  the  foot  of  the  incline,  a  stranger 
sight  than  they  had  yet  seen  attracted 
their  attention.  It  was  a  circle  of 
Indian  wigwams,  in  the  lowest  part  of 
the  valley,  no  doubt  placed  there  to 
protect  them  from  the  winds  that  pre- 
vailed   in    the    uplands.      One   of  the 


lodges  was  taller  and  broader  than  the 
rest,  but  in  other  respects  they  were 
alike  and  of  the  usual  cone  form. 

In  the  centre  of  the  circle  was  a 
huge  log  fire,  around  which  was  gath- 
ered a  promiscuous  lot  of  Indians, 
squaws  and  papooses,  watching  the 
approaching  sleighs. 

"Are  these  Indians  always  friendly?" 
the  Chaplain  asked  of  Bateese,  as  they 
gradually  neared  the  little  Indian  vil- 
lage. 

"Oui,  Monsieur,  yees,"  was  the 
answer.  "Dey  be  Micmacs,  and  Mic- 
macs  goot  Indians.  Not  like  de 
Hurons,  who  scalp  all  de  tam.  But 
let  white  men  cheat  a  Micmac,  or  run 
away  wid  heem  squaw,  den,  by  Gar, 
he  have  revanche.  He  follow  dat  man 
till  he  kill  him  wid  his  hatchet,  den  put 
him  in  de  ground;  and  no  wan  ever 
heard  of  him  no  more." 

"Whew!"  exclaimed  Helen  with  a 
little  shiver.  "They  must  be  very 
good  Indians  indeed  if  they  kill  a  man 
for  cheating." 

"Ah,  Madame!  So  dey  be;  just 
treat  Micmacs  square  and  dey  treat 
you  square,  too!" 

"  How  do  they  build  their  wig*- 
wams?"  the  Chaplain  asked.  "They 
are  very  substantial  looking." 

"Veil,  I  tell  you  I  been  in  dem 
many's  de  time.  Dey  juss  as  warm  as 
Madame's  boudoir  wid  leetle  stove  in 
it.  Dey  make  *em  of  cedar  poles,  tight 
in  groun'  and  fastened  together  tight 
at  top.  Den  dey  bind  dem  roun*  all 
ovare  wid  strong  green  bark  put  on 
like  shingles,  and  so  close  dat  water 
can't  get  in.  Dey  make  'em  in  sum- 
mare  so  it  dry  by  wintare.  Nex'  dey 
put  in  straight  spruce  branches  all 
over  de  outside  and  spruce  green 
branches  all  over  de  inside — till  it  is 
like  deh  man  from  de  contree — green 
all  de  way  tru." 

"Bateese,!  didn't  know  you  were 
so    witty,"    exclaimed    the    Chaplain. 

"  Vel,  by  Gar,  ef  a  man  drive  all  de 
tam  day  after  day  all  wintare  long, 
most  tam  wid  no  wan  to  spoke  to;  an' 
'is  femme  or  ees  fille  a  tousand  miles 
away,  ef  ees  no  jess  t'ink  of  someting 
funny  he  die." 


452 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


By  this  time  the  chief  with  a  number 
of  his  tribe  were  out  on  the  road,  and 
on  the  approach  of  Sir  George's  sleigh 
he  threw  up  his  right  arm  and  shouted: 

"  Kwa." 

*'Yer  honour,  the  spalpeen  means 
how  do  yez  do  ?  "  said  Pat  in  a  low 
voice.  Sir  George's  driver  was  a 
Hibernian. 

"  I'm  very  well,  thank  you,"  replied 
the  Colonel,  extending  his  hand.  But 
the  Indian  ignored  the  proffered  cor- 
diality. 

"Be  jabers,  he  can  talk  English,  too, 
for  I've  heerd  him,"  muttered  Pat  in  a 
still  lower  key. 

'•  Kwa  wenin,"  next  said  the  Indian, 
looking  straight  into  the  eyes  of  Sir 
George. 

Pat  this  time  remembered  more  fully, 
so  he  turned  and  spoke  aloud,  "He 
means,  who  are  you?  Tell  him  your 
name.  Sir  George,  and  he'll  answer 
yez  in  English." 

'•  Sir  George  Head,  Colonel  of  the 
soldiers  of  the  Great  Father." 

"  It  is  well.  White  Bear— Chief  of 
Micmacum  tribum.  Always  every- 
thing two  ways  me  speakum,"  replied 
the  Indian  in  a  dignified  manner;  while 
this  time  he  accepted  the  hand  of  the 
Colonel,  retaining  it  firmly  in  his  own 
for  some  moments.  The  Micmacs,  in 
their  association  with  the  whites,  had 
made  a  strange  jumble  of  the  language. 
Still,  White  Bear's  English  being  in- 
telligible, a  few  minutes'  conversation 
followed. 

The  Chief  told  him  that  he  had  seen 
the  scouts  already — and  after  telling 
him  that  Sir  George  and  his  soldiers 
were  coming,  they  had  gone  ahead  to 
prepare  for  the  night's  camp. 

Evidently  from  the  way  the  Chief  and 
his  braves  strutted  around,  they  had 
put  on  their  best  costumes  in  order  to 
meet  the  representative  of  the  Great 
Father. 

The  Chief  was  armed  with  a  toma- 
hawk, and  dressed  in  full  Indian  cos- 
tume, with  leggings,  moccasins,  hunt- 
ing shirt  and  wampum  belt;  but  his 
head-dress,  though  of  mink,  was  made 


in  civilised  style.  The  men,  who  stood 
a  few  feet  in  his  rear,  were  dressed  in 
more  nondescript  fashion.  Two  or 
three  had  muskets  and  more  than  one 
hatchet  and  long  knife  could  be  seen 
beneath  the  blankets  they  wore. 
Furtherback,but  outside  the  wigwams, 
the  squaws  were  huddled  together,  and 
beyond  them  the  children. 

"Great  Father  send  braves,  Yan- 
kees you  fightum?"  said  the  Indian, 
feeling  quite  proud  of  his  English. 

"Not  this  time,"  said  Sir  George. 
"The  Great  Father  sends  his  men  to 
trade  with  the  Indians  up  the  Ottawa 
and  on  the  great  lakes  toward  the 
setting  sun." 

"  Takum  squaws  too?"  was  the  next 
question,  with  a  side  glance  at  Helen 
and  the  women  in  the  next  sleigh. 

"Not  many  squaws,"  replied  Sir 
George  gravely.  "Just  enough  to 
make  the  men  behave  themselves. 
More  will  come  by-and-bye." 

"When  White  Bear  make  bargain 
squaw  nevil  speakum,"  said  the  Indian, 
sententiously. 

"  Do  you  hear  that,  Mrs.  Manning?'^ 
cried  the  Colonel  to  Helen,  who  was 
near  enough  to  hear  the  words  of  the 
conversation.  "But  we  must  drive 
on.    I  am  glad  to  have  met  you.  Chief!" 

Again  they  shook  hands;  White 
Bear  once  more  raised  his  right  hand 
above  his  head  as  before,  and,  simul- 
taneously, the  band  of  Indians  joined 
in  the  parting  salutation  of  "  Kwa." 

The  tone  was  so  fierce  and  loud  that 
all  the  women  started.  It  sounded  more 
like  a  war-whoop  than  an  expression 
of  good- will;  and  they  were  glad  in- 
deed to  commence  their  journey  again. 
But  the  Indians  remained  where  they 
were  until  the  last  of  the  sleighs  had 
passed.  Then  Sir  George  raised  his 
busby  in  salute  and,  in  answer  to  his 
courtesy.  White  Bear  pulled  off  his 
mink  skin  and  once  more  yelled 
"Kwa."  Whereupon  the  sleighs 
quickened  their  speed  to  make  up  for 
lost  time,  while  the  Indians  returned 
to  their  lodges. 


TO   BE  CONTINUE  D 


4( 


TRAILING  CLOUDS  OF  GLORY" 


BEING  THE  RECORD  OF  A  CHILD'S  AFTERNOON 
By  MARY  STEWART  DURIE 


"  Trailing  clouds  of  glory  do  we  come 
From  God  who  is  our  home.'" 

-    Words-worth. 

NE  angel  who  trailed  them 
sat  in  the  middle  of  the 
croquet  lawn,  which  was 
starred  with  yellow  dande- 
lions and  mottled  with  the 
leafy  shadows  cast  by  a  wide-branched, 
old  linden  tree,  which  grew  at  the 
south  end  of  the  lawn. 

When  the  Angel  looked  up  at  the 
sound  of  a  squirrel's  chattering  over- 
head, she  could  see  nothing  but  dark, 
gnarled  branches,  and  broad,  round 
linden  leaves  green  against  the  sunny 
blue  of  the.  sky.  It  was  a  pretty, 
pretty  world  and  made,  she  felt  half- 
consciously,  for  her  particular  benefit. 
She  was  only  six  years  of  age,  so  it  is 
not  surprising  that  her  wings  still  re- 
mained invisible.  Indeed,  there  were 
times  within  the  memory  of  man  when 
her  nurse.  Miss  Betsy  McGrath,  late 
of  Ireland,  would  have  considered 
horns  and  a  tail  more  fitting  adjuncts 
to  her  small  person  than  the  angelic 
feathers;  but  these  occasions  were 
rare  and  happily  brief. 

In  fact,  the  Angel  was  almost  as 
clever  at  the  dual  personality  business 
as  the  famous  Dr.  Jekyll  himself. 
Cleverer,  perhaps,  when  one  comes  to 
think  of  it,  for  there  were  three  of  her, 
to  wit — the  Angel,  Her  Satanic  Ma- 
jesty, and  Mrs.  Jerusalem. 

Mrs.  Jerusalem  was  the  mother  of  a 
large  and  healthy  family  of  dolls,  and 
it  was  she  (begging  the  Angel's  par- 
don) who  sat  under  the  linden  tree 
that  fair  summer  afternoon.  Her 
family  were  seated  at  a  small,  red- 
painted  kindergarten  table  close  by 
her  side.  They  appeared  to  be  par- 
taking of  a  slight  dejeuner  while  their 
parent  watched  anxiously  for  lapses  in 
table  etiquette.  At  the  farther  end  of 
the  table  sat  the  eldest  son  of  the  fam- 


ily. Jack,  a  rakish-looking  youth  whose 
costume  and  general  appearance  led 
one  to  believe  that  he  had  followed  the 
sea  in  his  early  days.  Evidently  -a  sad 
dog,  he  slouched  forward  carelessly 
at  the  table  and  gazed  with  an  impu- 
dently, supercilious  expression  at  his 
sister  Rosaline,  whose  white  woolly 
locks  suggested  an  Albino  ancestry. 
Suddenly  a  dizziness  seemed  to  seiae 
the  reprobate.  He  leaned  over  un- 
steadily to  one  side,  and  toppled  com- 
pletely, his  china  nose  crashing  igno- 
miniously  into  his  plate  of  jam. 

"Jacky  Jerusalem!"  exclaimed  his 
parent  in  horror-stricken  tones,  "is 
that  the  way  a  gemplman  behaves  at 
luncheon?  Not  when  /  was  a  little 
girl!     Your  manners  is  servantlyV^ 

Mrs.  Jerusalem  rose  hastily,  her 
short  white  frock  sticking  out  stiff  and 
crumpled  above  a  pair  of  fat,  bare 
legs.  She  picked  up  her  son  who  lay 
stunned,  his  head  in  his  plate,  and 
proceeded  to  administer  justice  in  sum- 
mary fashion.  Her  exertions  made 
her  quite  red  in  the  face,  for  not  only 
was  it  incumbent  on  her  to  chastise  the 
son  of  her  bosom,  but  also  to  produce 
the  wails  suitable  to  the  occasion. 

"Naughty — naughty — naughty  boys 
what  falls  into  the  jam  don't  never  go 
to  heaven!"she  interjected,  punctuating 
her  words  with  chastening  hand.  The 
sawdust  poured  from  a  gaping  wound 
in  Jacky's  arm,  but  he  appeared  indif- 
ferent. It  was  a  tame  ending  to  the 
scene. 

A  butterfly,  all  gold  and  brown, 
floated  airily  past  her  head.  In  a  mo- 
ment the  role  of  Mrs.  Jerusalem  was 
cast  to  the  winds,  Jacky  was  flung 
prone  to  the  earth,  and  the  Angel  was 
flying  in  hot  pursuit  of  the  delicate, 
lazily-moving  creature.  Up  a  long, 
sunny  gravel  path  she  chased  it,  her 
golden  hair  making  a  halo  for  her  bare 
head,    her    wide,    shade    hat   hanging 


454 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


at  her  back  by  its  elastic  :  down  the 
shady  lane  that  ran  close  to  the  back 
garden  fence,  where  the  rhubarb  grew 
rank,  and  where  crabapple  trees  spread 
their  low,  knotty  branches  wide,  and 
reached  across  the  picket  fence  and 
into  the  enchanted  country  of  '*  next 
door." 

The  butterfly  lighted  at  last  on  a 
fragrant  spray  of  wild  currant  low 
enough  for  the  Angel  to  reach.  She 
whipped  off  her  hat  and  pounced  with 
the  trapping  instinct  which  still  lingers 
unabated  in  the  human  breast,  but  the 
flying  thing  eluded  her  and  sailed 
away  light-winged,  leaving  an  eager, 
little,  white-clad  figure  standing  on 
tiptoe  and  gazing  earnestly  at  that 
point  in  the  fence  over  which  her  prey 
had  disappeared. 

Where  had  he  gone?  Where  did  he 
live?     Did  he  like  being  a  butterfly? 

The  Angel  picked  a  rhubarb  leaf 
and  fanned  her  small,  flushed  face  with 
it,  while  she  considered  these  unan- 
swerable questions.  She  sauntered 
back  to  the  lawn  swinging  her  hat  by 
its  elastic.  On  the  way,  she  brushed 
against  a  clump  of  spearmint  that 
grew  at  the  angle  of  two  paths,  and  its 
spicy  fragrance  made  her  remember 
something — she  could  not  quite  re- 
member what — something  about  chas- 
ing butterflies  there  before  when  she 
was  quite  a  /zny  child,  oh,  years  ago! 

It  was  warm.  She  flung  herself 
down  on  the  smooth  grass  of  the  lawn 
at  the  edge  of  the  linden  tree's  shadow, 
and  lay  blinking  up  at  the  sky  with 
heavenly  eyes.  A  delicate  little  cloud 
or  two  drifted  peacefully  in  the  blue- 
ness.  Where  did  the  little  clouds 
come  from?  she  wondered.  Were 
they  baby  angels  flying  about  and 
playing  up  there?  Perhaps  some  day 
she  would  be  a  dear  little  white  cloud 
— a  truly  little  angel — if  she  were 
good,  oh,  very,  very  good,  like  the  lit- 
tle girl  that — 

"Gabrielle!  Gay!  Where  are  you?" 
Jimmy  McShane,  the  gardener's  son, 
dropped  agilely  over  the  fence  which 
divided  the  vegetable  field  from  the 
garden,  and  came  running  towards  the 
Angel.     He  was  eight  years   old,  and 


wore  a  blue-checked  gingham  shirt,  a 
trifle  patched,  and  blue  dennim  knick- 
erbockers suspended  by  real  braces. 
His  hair  was  sandy,  his  nose  of  the 
retrousse  variety,  an  altogether  charm- 
ing combination,  to  Gabrielle's  mind. 
She  admired  him  fervently,  and  Jimmy 
adored  her.  Their  reasons  for  this 
mutual  admiration  differed  widely — 
naturally. 

The  Angel  admired  Jimmy  because 
of  his  age,  which  exceeded  her  own  by 
two  years;  because  he  could  climb 
trees  and  turn  somersaults,  and  be- 
cause he  had  freckles,  which  she  con- 
sidered a  desirable  form  of  facial 
adornment;  whereas  Jimmy  adored  the 
Angel  because  he  was  rarely  allowed  to 
play  with  her,  because  she  considered 
his  tree-climbing  and  somersaults  as 
feats,  and  because  in  his  small,  rever- 
ent, Irish  heart  there  was  an  inborn 
admiration  and  respect  for  "the  Qual- 
ity," to  which  august  body,  he  had  been 
assured  many  times  by  his  father, 
"  Miss  Gabrielle"  belonged. 

"Gay,"  he  called;  "Miss  Gay, 
where  are  ye,  sure?" 

"  Here,  Jimmy,  Here!" 

An  alert  and  inquiring  Angel,  ready 
for  any  contingency,  ran  to  him  swing- 
ing her  long-suffering  hat. 

"  Pa's  afther  tellin'  'bout  the  circus, 
Miss  Gay,  an'  I'm  goin'  till  it  this  mor- 
tal minute.  Come  an  wid  me,  if  ye  like!'^ 

Gay  regarded  him  doubtfully,  not 
sure  of  her  subject. 

"  Where  there's  p'cessions  ?" 

"  No,  no,  sure  the  percessions  is  all 
over,  but  it's  the  circus,  wid  the  sar- 
pints  an' — " 

"And  girrafts  and  Campbells, 
Jimmy?" 

"Yes,  sure,  an'  bears  and  lines  an^ 
ladies  that  ate  snakes,  and  everythin' 
else.     Come  an.  Miss  Gay!" 

"  Little  girls  can't  go  by  theirselves 
to  circuses,  an'  Mummy's  away,  an'^ 
Betsey  won't  let's." 

"Aw,  Miss  Gay,  you  ast  Betsey 
nice,  ast  her  rale  swate  like,  an'  she'll 
let  ye." 

"You  ask  Betsey,  Jimmy!" 

"No,  you  ast  her  yerself.  Miss  Gay» 
Quick,  there's  a  good  girl!" 


TRAILING  CLOUDS  OF  GLORY 


455 


"No, _)'<>«.     Aw,  Jimmy!" 

She  looked  at  him  with  appealing 
eyes,  and  he  relented. 

'*  Well,  well — we'll  count,  and  who- 
iver  it  comes  to  's  got  to  ast  her." 

The  Angel  awaited  the  decision  of 
the  oracle  with  solemnity: 

"  Inty,  minty,  fig  o'  tay, 
II  dil  dominay; 
Orky  porky  stole  a  rock, 
Inty,  niinty,  dickety  dock. 
O-u-t  spells  out." 

"There,  Miss  Gabrielle,  it's  you 
has  to  ask  Betsey,  darlint." 

The  Angel's  lip  quivered  ominously. 
"  Betsey  won't  let  me  go.  She's 
cross." 

'*  Aw,  well,  niver  mind,  sure. 
Lave  her  alone  thin  an'  we'll  go  our- 
selves." 

This  was  a  new  and  delightful  alter- 
native. Gay  looked  bewitched  with 
joy.     She  laughed  breathlessly. 

"Let's!"  she  exclaimed,  with  a 
smothered  little  shriek  of  delight;  and, 
catching  hands,  the  pair  ran  down  the 
shady  avenue,  and  out  at  the  old  white 
gate,  to  the  hot,  dusty  road,  while 
their  two  hearts  beat  high  with  expec- 
tation and  the  perils  of  the  enterprise. 

The  road  was  very  long,  very  dusty, 
very  warm. 

"Will  we  soon  be  there,  Jimmy?" 
Gay  had  enquired  several  times,  re- 
pressing a  tired  little  shake  in  her 
voice,  but  at  last  the  happy  hunting 
grounds  had  been  reached.  Crowds 
of  people  were  streaming  across  a 
large  field,  where  the  great  white  cir- 
cus tents  lay  in  the  blazing  sun.  Gay 
grasped  Jimmy's  hand  nervously  as 
they  walked  in  the  midst  of  thethrong. 
As  they  neared  the  entrance  to  the 
largest  tent  a  man  with  greasy  black 
hair  and  a  rasping,  twanging  voice, 
was  calling  out  blatantly: 

"Come,  ladies  and  gentlemen,  here's 
where  you  secure  your  programmes  for 
the  greatest  show  on  earth.  Buy  a 
programme,  ladies,  that  you  may  know 
what  is  going  on  and  what  is  taking 
place!" 

Something  about  the  sound  of  the 
man's  voice  frightened  the  Angel  inde- 
scribably.     It  was  all  so  strange,  so 


foreign  to  her,  this  crowd,  the  queer 
people,  the  nasty  voices.  She  clung 
to  her  protector's  hand,  wordlessly. 

"Tickets  please!"  another  strident 
voice  was  calling,  just  at  the  door  ot 
the  tent. 

"Tickets!  Have  your  tickets  ready, 
ladies  and  gentlemen!" 

Tickets!  Jimmy  gasped.  He  had 
forgotten  that  one  had  to  pay.  He 
caught  Gay's  sleeve  and  pulled  her 
forcibly  out  of  the  crowd  into  an  open 
space.  He  explained  the  situation 
sorrowfully,  feeling  himself  a  miserable 
failure,  almost  forgetting  his  own  keen 
disappointment  in  trying  to  soothe 
hers. 

"O  Jimmy,"  she  cried  in  a  dis- 
appointed, bitter  little  wail,  "I  am  so 
tired  an'  I  didn't  know  I  was  till  you 
told  me  about  the  tickets.  An'  my 
slipper  hurts,  but  it  hurts  worse  about 
the  girafts  and  bears." 

Jimmy  choked  back  an  inconvenient 
lump  in  his  throat. 

"Sure  if  yer  little  slipper's  hurtin* 
yez,  we  c'n  take  it  afF  of  ye.  There 
sit  down  on  the  grass.  Miss  Gabrielle 
darlint,  an'  I'll  take  it  aff  for  ye!  Bare 
foot's  the  best,  anny  way.  There!" 
He  removed  with  painstaking  care  a 
little  dusty  slipper,  and  Gay  limped 
along  wearily,  one  white  stocking  in 
the  dust. 

He  had  found  a  sheltered  spot  near 
a  spare,  cone-shaped  cedar  tree  that 
grew  opposite  the  lemonade  booth, 
and  leading  the  limping  little  Angel  to 
it,  seated  her  on  the  grass  there.  She 
was  tired  and  very  thirsty,  but  would 
not  descend  to  the  babyishness  of 
tears.  She  knew  now  how  thirsty 
poor  Elijah  must  have  felt,  that  time 
in  the  desert.  Betsey  had  told  her 
about  him.      Poor  Elijah! 

She  wondered  if,  by  any  chance,  he 
had  had  to  sit  opposite  a  lemonade 
booth  when  he  was  so  thirsty,  watch- 
ing people  drinking  beautiful  pink 
lemonade — a  much  more  delicious  and 
more  recherchi  variety  than  Betsey  or 
even  one's  mother  could  make.  The 
Angel's  spirits  flagged.  She  had  ex- 
pected fairyland.  The  glamour  which 
had  surrounded  circuses  had  vanished 


456 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


entirely.  It  had  all  been  a  bitter  dis- 
appointment. 

Jimmy  knitted  a  freckled  brow  in 
thought,  while  he  pensively  nibbled  a 
stalk  of  grass.  What  was  to  be  done 
next!  Gay  regarded  him  in  forlorn 
inquiry. 

"Jove!"  exclaimed  a  manly  voice 
behind  them.  "By  jove,  if  that  isn't 
Margaret  Driffield's  small  sister.  What 
under  the  sun — !" 

"Valancey!"  cried  a  small  voice, 
brimful  of  joyous  welcome,  as  the 
Angel  cast  herself  precipitately  upon 
the  youth. 

Valancey  Roswell  picked  up  the 
small,  forlorn  person,  who  clasped  his 
clean  linen  collar  with  joyful  abandon. 
Then  he  looked  sternly  down,  and 
asked  for  explanations  from  the  freckle- 
faced  escort. 

These  must  have  proved  sufficiently 
satisfactory,  for  in  an  incredibly  short 
time  Jimmy  McShane  found  himself 
safely  ushered  past  the  greasy  gentle- 
man at  the  entrance  who  insisted  so 
cruelly  upon  people's  producing  tickets, 
and  seated  on  a  delightfully  uncertain 
circus  grand  stand,  by  Valancey  Ros- 
well's  side. 

As  for  Her  Satanic  Majesty,  she  sat, 
wreathed  in  smiles,  on  the  accommo- 
dating Ros  well's  knee,  gazing  about  her 
with  wicked  enjoyment.  Such  a  lark  ! 
What  would  Betsey  say,  if  she  could 
see  her  now! 

The  clowns  were  charming.  She 
could  not  always  quite  catch  what  they 
said,  but  it  made  her  laugh  anyway. 
She  was  distracted  to  know  which  ring 
to  watch,  for  there  were  three  rings. 
Whether  to  watch  the  elephant  who 
was  having  his  tea  and  not  behaving 
very  well, — just  like  the  young  Jerus- 
alems,  or  whether  to  watch  the  lady 
in  green  who  was  about  to  slide  from 
the  top  of  the  tent  by  her  teeth,  or 
whether  to  watch  the  ponies.  Ah  yes! 
she  loved  the  ponies,  and  the  tight 
rope  ladies,  but  best  of  all — (oh  far 
best!)  did  she  love  the  Queen  of  Sheba. 

This  lady  came  in  towards  the  end 
of  the  performance.  First,  King  Solo- 
mon and  his  retainers,  and  his  dancing 
girls,    then    camels    and    riders,    and 


slaves  waving  feather  fans,  and  then 
the  Queen  of  Sheba,  gorgeously  ap- 
parelled in  green  and  pink  sateen, 
flashing  with  tinsel  and  tin  sequins. 
Gay  drew  a  long  breath  of  supreme 
satisfaction.  A  real  princess,  like  those 
in  the  fairy  tales. 

"  Superfine  lemonade 
In  the  shade.     Ten  cents!" 

The  pink  lemonade  was  coming 
around  on  a  tray,  the  glasses  clinking 
deliciously. 

Jimmy  looked    appealingly   at  Gay. 

"  Pink  lemonade  and  popcorn!"  he 
whispered,  but  Gay's  thoughts  refused 
to  come  to  earth! 

She  turned  with  adoring  eyes  from 
her  heroine  to  Roswell. 

"Valancey,  dear,  isn't  she  sweet? 
Did  you  ever  see  such  a  pretty  person 
before?" 

Valancy  bit  his  lip  and  looked  in  the 
distance  for  inspiration. 

"Never!"  he  said  fervently. 

But  the  Angel  hardly  heard  his  re- 
ply. She  was  watching  the  pageant 
with  rapt  expression.  One  idea  dom- 
inated her,  the  glory  of  being  the 
Queen  of  Sheba  in  a  circus.  She  had 
decided  upon  a  career  for  herself. 

Conversation  flagged  on  the  way 
home.  Gay  was  pondering  deeply  as 
Roswell  carried  her  in  his  strong  arms. 
There  was  Betsey  McGrath  still  to  be 
appeased.  As  Roswell  put  the  child 
down  at  the  gate  she  tucked  a  warm 
little  hand  into  his  confidingly.  She 
hoped  for  his  protection  against  Bet- 
sey's onslaughts. 

"  Valancey,  dear,  you  were  sweet  to 
take  us.  Come  up  and  see  Margaret," 
she  said. 

One  strapped  slipper  was  still  miss- 
ing and  she  was  very  tired,  but — what 
did  it  matter?  She  had  been  to  fairy- 
land and  her  soul  was  satisfied. 

The  Jerusalem  family  were  still 
seated  under  the  linden  tree  when  the 
wanderers  returned.  A  wild-eyed  Bet- 
sey met  them  half-way  down  the  ave- 
nue, and  caught  the  Angel  to  her 
ample  and  starchy  bosom. 

"Aroon!"  she  murmured,  "is  it  back 
ye    a,re    to   yer    owld    Betsey,  darlint. 


THE  PRISONER  OF  BAALBEK 


457 


Come  wid  Betsey  an'  have  yer  teas,  my 
blessed  lambs!" 

"Betsey,  dear,  I  love  you  very 
much!"  whispered  the  Angel,  her  head 
pillowed  against  Betsey's  apron-bib. 

This  was  her  outward  speech.  The 
true  inwardness  of  her  thoughts  at  that 


moment  was  otherwise. 

"  Be  good  and  you  will  be  lone- 
some," says  Mark  Twain. 

"  If  you  are  only  naughty  enough 
your  nurse  (even  if  it's  Betsey)  will  for- 
get to  be  cross  to  you,"  thought  the 
Angel. 


THE  PRISONER  OF  BAALBEK 

By  JAMES    W,    FALCONER 


RANT  had  suddenly  dis- 
played an  unexpected  zest 
for  bargaining.  The  cause 
of  his  former  silence  was 
the  Syrian  fever,  induced 
partly  by  an  intemperate  use  of  Turk- 
ish Delight,  his  favourite  sweetmeat; 
and  until  we  crossed  the  Lebanons 
my  companion  had  denied  himself  the 
Eastern  relaxation  of  beating  down  the 
Turk.  Perhaps  the  whiffs  of  winter 
had  revived  him,  and  the  unwonted 
grandeur  of  the  ascent  past  Brummana 
into  the  highlands,  where  the  rivers 
of  Syria  had  their  snowy  homes,  and 
where  cedars  grew. 

The  railway  journey  from  Beirut  was 
the  slowest  on  record,  16  miles  in  four 
hours;  but  no  lover  of  the  beautiful 
could  complain  that  it  was  too  slow. 
The  mosques  and  the  American  col- 
lege, the  trees  and  white  houses,  the 
ill-fated  quarantine  ground,  all  stood 
out  in  the  earlier  ascent.  On  the 
more  elevated  hillside  a  mingling  of 
greens  added  to  the  scenery.  The 
darker  hue  of  the  flat-roofed  mulberry, 
whose  leaf,  changed  into  silk,  would 
ere  long  adorn  some  Parisian  beauty, 
vied  with  the  light  green  of  the  grape- 
vine whose  juices  would  fire  the  wit  of 
that  Parisian's  courtier;  and  these 
greens  with  the  red  tiles  of  the  houses 
gave  colour  to  the  landscape. 

As  we  passed  out  of  the  realm  of 
human  labours  into  the  abode  of 
Nature's  bolder  work,  a  whirlpool  of 
mountain-peaks  seemed  to  be  encir- 
cling us.      Deep   scars  were  visible  on 


the  lofty  rock  walls.  Sudden  drop- 
pings of  precipices,  and  the  empty 
spaces  of  former  hills,  suggested  the 
battle  scenes  that  Milton  dreamt  of, 
when  Satan  waged  his  war  on  Heaven 
and 

"  Sidelong  pushed  a  mountain  from  his  seat." 

Emerging  upon  the  open  side  again, 
we  beheld  far  below  us  the  clearly 
traced  shore  line,  and  the  blue  of  the 
Mediterranean,  whose  waters  to  the 
further  west  were  lost  in  the  haze  of 
the  sky,  and  joining  the  vault  of 
heaven  seemed  to  rise  up  to  the  atmos- 
phere we  breathed,  which  now  was 
crisp  and  keen,  cooled  over  these  eter- 
nal snows. 

All  this  revived  Grant,  so  that  when 
we  arrived  at  El-Ma'allaka  he  was  a 
new  man.  There  was  much  noise  and 
movement  about  the  station,  which 
was  filled  with  passengers  to  and  from 
Damascus,  while  a  few,  like  ourselves, 
were  waiting  to  go  by  carriage  to  the 
famous  ruins  of  the  temple  of  Baalbek. 
The  table  was  a  credit  to  the  station- 
mistress.  Among  those  who  enjoyed 
the  meal  were  several  of  the  normal 
type  of  tourists,  a  captain  of  the  Turk- 
ish infantry  whose  pock-marked  face 
was  marvellously  illuminated  when  he 
mentioned  the  beauty  of  his  native 
Damascus,  and  a  youth  from  Jeru- 
salem who  had  donned  all  of  the  cos- 
tume of  the  West,  some  of  its  language 
and  very  little  of  its  courtesy.  His 
familiarity  was  preparing  him  for  a  fall. 

During   the    service    of    dried    figs. 


458 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


more  like  the  "  naughty  figs  "  of  Jere- 
miah than  to  our  taste,  Grant  slipped 
out  unnoticed  to  interview  the  livery- 
men in  the  yard;  and  such  was  his  suc- 
cess that  on  my  appearance  the  plat- 
form was  the  centre  of  what  in  our 
undemonstrative  West  would  be  called 
a  riot.  There  was  evidently  an  upris- 
ing of  charioteers. 

"Only  ten  francs  to  the  Temple." 
This  was  the  sentence  which  rose  shrill 
and  clear  above  the  hubbub  of  sounds; 
and  at  its  delivery  a  fresh  outbreak  of 
voices,  cracking  of  whips,  and  wild 
gestures.  The  usual  price,  including 
the  return  journey,  was  twenty  francs 
for  each  person;  and  the  guild  of  un- 
successful applicants  was  indignant. 

But  Grant  was  calm:  his  triumph 
was  kingly.  The  fever  had  departed. 
He  was  tasting  a  new  kind  of  "Turk- 
ish Delight." 

True,  our  carriage  was  not  of  the 
best,  and  jolted  as  if  quite  conscious  of 
the  bargain;  the  horses  seemed  to 
catch  the  spirit  of  the  carriage,  while 
the  driver  would  stop  every  now  and 
then  to  take  in  some  straggler  by  the 
way,  pleading  as  his  excuse  that  each 
was  his  brother.  However,  we  arrived 
in  the  early  afternoon  in  time  to  visit 
the  Temple,  and  with  the  pleasurable 
knowledge  that  it  was  the  cheapest 
trip  of  the  journey. 

In  a  few  hours  we  had  finished  our 
inspection  and  had  turned  to  the  hotel 
on  the  eastern  slope,  discussing  as  we 
went  the  labour  involved  in  the  quarry- 
ing and  moving  of  the  giant  stones, 
and  that  labour  now  a  waste,  a  haunt 
for  the  antiquary  to  sport  in. 

While  we  talked  of  the  temple  ruins 
a  woman  came  towards  us,  tall  and 
bold  of  form,  with  the  customary  loose- 
ness of  attire  and  a  shawl  on  her  head. 
The  sun  shone  dark  on  her  burnished 
face,  the  same  light  which  farther 
west  was  colouring  the  snows  of  the 
Lebanon  with  a  rosyhue.  The  face  was 
uncommon  for  the  East;  the  hair  and 
eyes  were  fair,  and  a  flush  passed  up 
and  down  the  cheek.  As  we  waited 
for  the  inevitable  "  Backshish,"  a  voice 
spoke  in  purest  English:  "You  look  at 
ruined   temples,    but   there   are   more 


ruins  here  than  the  temple  of  the  Sun." 
The  eye  flashed,  and  the  words  were 
fierce,  only  as  they  died  away  the 
fierceness  gave  place  to  a  deep  sad- 
ness, as  when  the  infant's  petulant  cry 
of  anger  tones  off  into  the  low  waii  of 
one  broken-hearted, 

"How  do  you  speak  English  so 
well  ?" 

"  It  had  been  well  for  me  had  I 
known  no  other  tongue." 

"You  speak  in  mystery." 

"  It  is  no  mystery  to  me,  but  only 
misery." 

"  What  troubles  you,  good  woman?" 

She  waited,  scanned  our  faces 
and,     as    if    satisfied,    made    answer: 

"  Will  you  listen  if  I  tell  my  story  ? 
It  can  be  of  no  avail — I  must  remain; 
but  the  telling  of  it  will  relieve  me;  and 
when  you  hear  it  you  will  know  that 
there  are  other  broken  things  in  Baal- 
bek besides  the  fallen  pillars." 

"  We  will  gladly  hear  you,  and  help 
you  also  if  we  can."  So  Grant  en- 
couraged her;  for  he  was  kind  and 
easily  moved  to  pity.  The  following 
was  her  tale: 

"  I  spent  my  childhood  in  the  Prov- 
ince of  Nova  Scotia,  on  a  farm  re- 
mote from  the  sound  of  railroad,  and 
far  from  any  meeting-house  or  village. 
My  parents  had  migrated  from  Scot- 
land and,  being  too  poor  to  buy  a 
farm,  had  gone  inland  to  cut  out  a 
home  from  the  native  wilderness. 
After  devoting  every  moment  to  their 
toil  they  earned  the  reward  which  hon- 
est effort  seldom  fails  to  receive,  so 
that  in  my  time  the  landscape  had  been 
transformed.  My  father  had  made  all 
the  improvements  himself,  following 
the  method  of  home  production.  The 
wooden  cottage  was  built  from  our 
own  trees  and,  though  there  were 
some  faults  in  the  sills,  these  were 
concealed  in  winter  by  the  annual 
banking  of  the  tan  bark,  while  in  sum- 
mer my  mother  planted  along  the  edge 
her  flowers,  of  which  she  loved  most  of 
all  the  lupins  and  the  bleeding-heart. 
I  used  to  pick  these  to  pieces  and  won- 
der if  hearts  could  really  bleed.  The 
fields  of  grain  and  grass,  alternating 
with  crops  of  roots,   were  my  father's 


THE  PRISONER  OF  BAALBEK 


459 


pride,  and  he  would  tell  of  the  cart- 
loads of  stones  which  had  gone  to  make 
the  farm  the  richer,  and  which  were 
now  used  for  the  front  wall  along  the 
roadside.  He  had  cleared,  burnt  and 
stumped  every  acre  of  the  fair  hillside. 
And  it  was  an  object  worthy  of  his 
joy,  though  the  world  has  scant  admir- 
ation for  the  heroes  of  the  soil  who 
recover  the  forests  and  drain  the 
swamps. 

'*But  success  had  claimed  its  wage, 
and,  by  degrees,  work,  like  a  slave- 
master,  had  bound  him  over  by  a  fast 
contract.  The  struggle  was  impressed 
on  him  and  my  mother,  even  as  on 
yonder  stones  of  the  temple  you 
watched  the  chisel  marks  of  the  past. 
Sometimes  they  would  rebel  against 
their  fate,  but  their  protest  was  in 
vain,  so  that  when  years  brought  afflu- 
ence and  a  prospect  of  lessening  the 
tension,  the  time  for  such  relief  was 
ever  postponed.  My  mother  was  not 
of  the  ordinary  type,  being  the  supple- 
ment rather  than  the  complement  of 
my  father.  She  had  not  limited  her 
efforts  to  the  female  duties  of  the 
farm,  and  the  chores  about  the  yard, 
but  had  loved  to  work  in  the  woods 
and  the  fields.  They  were  both  chips 
of  some  harder  block,  and  the  stream 
of  a  common  work  had  worn  them 
into  one  shape. 

"They  treated  me  as  a  member  of 
another  state  from  theirs.  My  girl- 
hood was  passed  in  ease,  free  from 
that  incessant  toil  which  followed 
them.  Every  stone  they  lifted  from  my 
path;  and,  while  in  my  heart  I  knew 
that  their  care  of  me  was  a  labour  of 
love,  yet  my  rebellious  nature  would 
whisper  that  all  was  due  to  their  love 
of  labour.  My  parents  had  given  me 
leisure,  but  had  not  furnished  me  with 
the  social  necessities  of  leisure,  so  that 
I  was  a  creature  living  without  an  at- 
mosphere. My  world  was  uninhabited. 
I  was  a  foreigner  at  home.  They 
gave  me  all  that  care  could  give;  they 
could  not  give  companionship.  They 
were  prisoners  of  labour,  and  I  was  a 
flippant  child  of  ease;  and  we  passed 
our  lives  in  closest  separation.  Most 
of  all  was  it  tedious   in  the  long  win- 


ters, when  the  snow  came  in  November 
and  blocked  the  road,  while  it  was 
well  on  in  May  ere  the  frost  had  heaved 
out  of  our  slaty  soil.  Mails  were 
irregular;  visitors  were  very  rare.  I 
chafed  against  my  lot.  I  only  faintly 
perceived  their  love.  I  rebelled  against 
their  labour." 

A  pause  came  in  the  story,  as  she 
looked  to  the  distant  hilltop,  and  then 
continued: 

"  Into  that  silent  anarchy  of  our 
home  an  agitator  c^me.  I  can  re- 
member so  well  watching  him  as  he 
climbed  the  road.  His  figure  was  un- 
usual and  could  not  be  mistaken.  The 
stalwart  form  only  partially  concealed 
the  traits  of  his  class,  for  the  swing 
from  side  to  side,  and  the  stoop  of  the 
head  revealed  him  to  be  one  of  those 
pedlars  who  crowd  our  Province  in 
such  numbers.  His  manner  was  as 
sti  iking  as  his  form.  A  soft  accent 
and  pleasant  smile  put  him  at  once 
on  good  terms  with  his  company. 

"  He  came  with  our  December 
storm,  and  that  winter  it  was  impos- 
sible to  move  for  many  days;  and  into 
our  snowbound  home  he  brought  great 
pleasure.  He  told  of  the  romances  of 
the  Middle  Sea,  of  the  thrilling  tales 
of  Druse  and  Meronite;  of  the  beauty 
of  Damascus,  the  river  Barada  and  the 
slopes  of  the  Lebanon.  He  stirred  my 
mind  with  the  Scripture  prophecies  of 
the  time  when  the  nations  of  the  earth 
would  return  to  the  land  of  promise  at 
the  second  advent  of  the  Saviour  to 
this  world.  He  told  of  a  large  estate 
of  his  family  near  Baalbek,  into  which 
he  would  enter  when  his  father,  now 
aged,  had  passed  away.  He  told  of 
more  than  one  *'  Temple  of  the  Sun." 
Thus  he  gave  me  my  atmosphere;  peo- 
pled my  silent  world.  He  entered  my 
realm  and  became  my  king.  Enough 
to  say  that  ere  the  last  snows  fell  that 
winter  we  were  married,  and  escaped 
together  to  our  'Promised  Land.'" 

Another  furtive  glance  over  her 
shoulder,  and  she  read  our  thought, 
"What  of  your  farm  and  heritage?" 

"Yonder  is  my  home;"  and  she 
pointed  to  a  field  of  several  acres  on 
the      distant     hilltop,     where      slight 


460 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


patches  of  green  were  visible.  "That 
is  our  farm.  I  am  its  keeper.  With- 
in the  room  he  dwells  who  brought  me; 
and  our  heritage  is  all  but  gone.  He 
is  a  lover  of  indolence,  and  I  am  the 
reluctant  slave  of  labour.  Often  do  I 
wonder  at  my  parents,  and  at  the  irony 
of  events  that  I  should  by  force  be 
driven  to  their  calling.  I  have  so 
often  asked  if  there  is  not  something 
in  the  blood  that  has  transmitted  it. 
Doth  fate  ever  follow  people  thus  ? 
So  still  I  rail  at  work  ;  and  when  I 
think  of  the  curse  of  the  land  I  wonder 
what  murder  I  am  guilty  of.  Is  it  my 
parents'  character  that  I  have  killed?" 

When  she  stopped  Grant  questioned 
her  as  to  her  return  home. 

"  Who  can  escape  the  passport  sys- 
tem of  this  land  of  captivity  ?  Besides, 
he  watches  and  will  soon  call  for  me. 
I  go  back  to  my  lot;  and  of  late  I  have 
been  regarding  it  a  little  more  kindly. 
I  recall  the  glow  that  would  brighten 
my  mother's  brow  when  a  day's  work 
was  accomplished,  and  my  revolt 
passes  into  submission.  I  begin  to 
feel  that  I  am  more  their  child  than 
formerly.  Their  spirit,  though  late, 
is  passing  into  me.  And  amid  it  all  I 
remember  the  words  of  a  perfect  child 


who  was  one  with  His  Father,  and 
who  said,  '  My  Father  worketh  hith- 
erto and  I  work.'  I  think,  too,  of 
the  motto  that  hung  over  our  mantel- 
piece at  home:  '  Man  goeth  Jorth  unto 
his  work  and  to  his  labour  until  the 
evening.'  Then  I  cease  my  flippant 
ways  and  check  my  complaint." 

The  shrill  voice  of  a  man  cried  out: 
*'  Marie,"  and  with  no  farewell  she  had 
gone.  The  sun  began  to  set;  the  Leb- 
anons,  that  were  so  rough  in  daytime, 
passed  through  that  wondrous  range 
of  colours  that  repeats  itself  each 
evening  in  the  East,  and  the  ruins  of 
the  temple  seemed  to  hear  the  mes- 
sage of  the  old  sun  god,  and  the  six 
pillars  stood  out  as  if  no  destruction 
had  ever  entered,  while  a  ray  of 
gold  followed  the  woman  as  she  hur- 
ried off. 

In  the  morning  early  our  coachman 
called  and  asked  the  prepayment  of  the 
fare,  that  he  might  settle  with  the  inn- 
keeper. We  gave  him  the  stipulated 
ten  franc  piece.  He  took  it  and 
chuckled,  and  said  he  would  not  drive 
us  back  to  the  railway  until  we  paid 
another. 

"It  only  meant  one  way." 


THE  FUTURE  CALLS  UPON  THE 

EMPIRE 


By  DOUGLAS  KERR 


T  the  present  time  there  are 
serious  reasons  why  Cana- 
dians should  consider  well 
before  accepting  the  words 
of  Mr.  John  Morley  in  his 
recent  visit  to  our  country,  when  he 
warned  us  against  paying  any  prac- 
tical heed  to  European  politics.  If 
we,  in  Canada,  are  to  make  any 
account  of  our  connection  with  the 
Empire,  we  must  of  necessity  recognise 
the  Empire's  inevitable  relation  and 
ever-shifting    responsibilities  all   over 


the  world.  Great  Britain  has  ever  to 
face  new  situations  as  a  world-wide 
power,  and  of  late  has  had  to  adjust 
herself  to  changing  conditions  and 
redistribute  her  forces  to  meet  these. 
In  this  latest  redistribution  of  her 
military  and  naval  armament  Canada 
is  involved;  and  the  effect  is  ostensibly 
felt  in  the  withdrawing  of  the  garrisons 
from  Halifax  and  Esquimalt,  and  the 
removal  of  her  fleet  from  our  Atlantic 
and  Pacific  waters. 

In  spite  of  Mr.  Morley's  warning  we 


THE  FUTURE  CALLS  UPON  THE  EMPIRE 


461 


may  glance  across  the  Atlantic  and 
see  the  cause  of  these  imperial  deci- 
sions. Too  heavy  an  expenditure  on 
military'  upkeep  is  creating  exen  in  the 
Conservative  Government  of  Great 
Britain  a  desire  to  curtail  in  some  form 
the  burden  of  taxation.  And  the 
menace  of  Germany's  naval  ambitions 
is  awakening  such  concern  in  the  Old 
Country  that  the  concentration  of 
Great  Britain's  only  European  arm  of 
strength  near  home  is  made  absolutely 
necessary. 

If  we  further  enquire  into  the  causes 
of  German  naval  growth  we  shall  find 
a  state  of  affairs  which  calls  upon  the 
people  of  Canada  to  take  a  livelier 
interest  in  the  affairs  of  the  European 
Continent.  While  these  affairs  neces- 
sarily lie  beyond  the  range  of  the 
average  reader's  immediate  interest, 
no  observer  of  European  politics  can 
view  with  disregard  the  tendency  on 
the  part  of  Russia  and  Germany  to 
walk  hand  in  hand.  In  Russia  there 
always  has  been  a  dearth  of  freedom 
of  political  thought  and  necessarily  a 
dearth  of  freedom  of  thought  in  gen- 
eral. But  till  lately  it  was  not  recog- 
nised that  also  in  Germany — once  the 
home  of  original  literature  and  re- 
search, there  is  setting  in  a  reaction 
in  favour  of  absolutism,  which  under 
the  present  regime  bids  fair  in  time  to 
equal  the  present  sterility  of  freedom 
of  the  neighbouring  Empire.  In  Russia 
the  artificial  means  of  suppressing  even 
thoughts  of  constitutional  government 
have  so  long  been  in  practice  that  their 
danger  to  civilisation  passed  unnoticed. 
But  the  tendency  in  Germany  is  recent. 
It  is  only  lately  that  experienced  ob- 
servers and  writers  have  noted  the  cer- 
tain trend  of  the  Emperor  of  Germany 
towards  absolutism.  The  machine- 
like precision  which  has  marked  this 
retrograde  evolution  has  helped  con- 
siderably to  keep  the  eyes  of  the 
world  blinded,  but  recently  most  alarm- 
ing lights  have  been  thrown  on  the 
designs  of  the  reigning  houses  of  Rus- 
sia and  Germany  and   their  adherents. 

We  can  only  instance  in  evidence  a 
few  of  the  significant  episodes.  It  is 
well  known  that  Germany,  that  is  the 


Kaiser,  has  guaranteed  the  peace  on 
Russia's  German  frontier  if  the  Czar 
finds  it  necessary  to  withdraw  the 
garrison  there  for  Far  Eastern  pur- 
poses. This  does  not  only  mean  no 
invasion  of  Russian  territory',  it  means 
the  overawing  of  the  Russian  Poles. 
What  may  not  be  so  well-known  is 
that  recently  the  German  Ambassador 
at  St.  Petersburg  asked  for,  and  was 
granted,  Russian  decorations  for  Ger- 
man policemen,  who  had  been  instru- 
mental in  bringing  to  book  certain 
enemies  of  the  Czar  in  Germany.  A 
little  and  a  great  incident  which  proved 
the  hand-in-hand  policy  of  these  two 
Governments. 

In  the  several  self-governing  nations 
within  the  reach  of  Russia's  land  arm, 
the  minions  of  autocracy  are  making 
themselves  felt.  Pressure  on  the 
Government  of  Sweden  was  lately 
brought  to  bear  on  the  editor  of  an 
anti- Russian  journal.  The  police  of 
Holland  have  been  doing  the  bidding 
of  the  Chief  of  the  Secret  Service  at 
St.  Petersburg.  The  most  recent  in- 
formation goes  also  to  prove  that  the 
Danish  Parliament  realises  the  danger 
of  the  situation  by  its  taking  cognis- 
ance of  the  manufacture  of  munitions 
of  war  for  Russia  within  the  Danish 
Government  factories. 

Now  let  us  look  at  a  few  of  the  in- 
dications of  the  trend  of  Emperor  Wil- 
liam's personal  policy.  What  the 
police  of  Russia  do  this  astute  ruler 
does  personally;  he  undermines,  or 
tries  to  undermine,  the  constitution  of 
every  free  State  within  his  reach, 
never  forgetting  that  first  and  foremost 
his  own  subjects  must  be  deprived  of 
their  constitutional  rights.  Already 
he  has  a  natural  weapon  to  use.  The 
methodical  and  systematic  nature  of 
the  German  people  make  it  easy  for 
him  to  unconsciously  mould  the  public 
service,  and  semi-public  service,  into  a 
great  automatic  machine,  with  which 
he  hopes  in  time  to  crush  the  free- 
thinkers, writers  and  workers  into  a 
recognition  of  his  own  supreme  au- 
thority. This  heedlessness  of  the  con- 
stitution has  answered  his  purpose  so 
well  at  home  that  he  has  tried,  and  in 


462 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


some  cases  successfully,  to  use  the 
same  methods  in  his  dealings  with  for- 
eign States.  His  Bagdad  Railway 
scheme,  and  his  drawing  Britain  into 
co-operation  against  Venezuela,  are 
instances  of  his  desire  and  power  to 
ignore  and  override  constituted  author- 
ity even  in  Britain,  for  the  British 
nation  on  these  two  matters  were  not 
consulted.  There  is  still  darkness, 
and  always  will  be,  as  to  how  these 
affairs  actually  came  to  a  head  without 
previous  Parliamentary  discussion.  In 
the  one  case  the  people  realised  in  time 
the  deep-laid  scheme,  in  the  other  only 
after  they  had  made  themselves  the 
laughing-stock  of  the  world. 

But  what  does  this  artificial  building 
up  of  power  portend  ?  Why  are  Rus- 
sia and  Germany  walking  together? 
Let  us  take  the  latter  question  first. 
The  Czar  and  the  Kaiser  must,  from 
geographical  necessity,  either  be  a 
danger  to  one  another  or  become  firm 
friends.  Personally  Emperor  William 
has  a  vast  influence  over  the  weaker 
Nicholas,  and  one  can  almost  see  his 
impetuous  diplomacy  being  carried  out 
through  his  agent  at  the  Czar's  Court. 
That  there  is  a  very  good  understand- 
ing as  to  whose  commerce  may  at  the 
present  juncture  be  harassed  by  Rus- 
sia, nobody  doubts.  Certainly  the 
schemes  emanating  from  St.  Peters- 
burg for  the  annoyance  of  British  and 
American  shipping,  savour  much  of 
German  intelligence  and  method. 

So  these  two  monarchs  are  joining 
hands  from  reasons  of  policy  and  of 
mutual  interest,  and  from  a  fear  of  the 
influence  of  the  free-thinking  countries 
of  France  and  England.  As  Poland  was 
swallowed,  so  do  these  two  monarchs 
hope  in  time  to  swallow  up  more  peo- 
ples. It  is  in  the  blood  of  the  German 
and  of  the  Muscovite  this  desire  to 
Germanise  and  Russianise.  To  do 
that  successfully  there  must  be  no  voice 
of  the  people  within  the  State.  For 
either  Russia  or  Germany  to  have  an 
opposition,  such  as  the  British  Govern- 
ment had  during  the  Boer  War,  would 
mean  an  end  to  the  ambitions  of  the 
Czar  and  Kaiser.  There  is  no  influ- 
ence behind   the  German  throne.      Be- 


hind that  of  Russia  there  is  supposed 
to  be  the  power  of  the  Grand  Dukes; 
but  only  time  will  show  which  is  the 
real  mover  of  the  millions  of  the  Czar, 
whether  his  cousins  the  Dukes  or  his 
friend  the  Emperor  William. 

Whether  successful  in  the  East  or 
not  Russia  will  press  north  and  west, 
as  Norwayand  Sweden  with  all  toogood 
reason  fear.  And  a  glance  at  the  map 
of  Europe  will  show  that  Germany  can 
hardly  content  herself  with  her  present 
northwestern  boundary;  for  to  the 
average  German  it  seems  anomalous 
that  her  chief  commercial  waterway, 
the  Rhine,  should  find  outlet  to  the 
sea  through  Dutch  territory.  The 
only  two  powers  who  will  resist  these 
movements,  first  politically,  and  then, 
if  needs  be,  physically,  are  France  and 
England.  At  present  these  are  the 
bulwarks  of  European  liberty,  and  if 
Europe  is  not  to  become  the  plaything 
of  Russia  and  Germany,  and  all  its 
races  subjected  to  their  influence,  the 
Anglo-French  entente  must  be  recog- 
nised and  strengthened  by  the  moral 
support  of  the  great  North  American 
people.  Already  we  have  seen  an  un- 
conscious instinct  of  common  danger 
drawing  these  two  old  enemies  to- 
gether. Frenchmen  recognise  very 
vividly  the  impending  danger  creeping 
out  of  the  near  East.  There  is  a  note 
of  gladness,  almost  of  relief,  over  the 
friendliness  of  the  two  peoples.  The 
erasing  of  difficulties  has  nothing  to  do 
with  this  feeling  of  new  strength.  It 
is  there;  and,  unconscious  though  it  be, 
there  must  be  something  to  cause  jub- 
ilation. Peoples  do  not  at  once  grasp 
the  situations  they  are  in.  History 
shows  that  common  interests  and  ex- 
istences are  unconsciously  felt  before 
being  publicly  recognised. 

In  the  present  light  of  European 
affairs  can  Canadians  afford  to  think 
with  Mr.  John  Morley  ?  We  say  most 
emphatically,  no.  At  this  time,  when 
England  is  preparing  herself  intern- 
ally and  abroad  to  meet  a  crisis  in  her 
existence,  it  behooves  Canadians  to 
morally  and  materially  help  the  Empire, 
not  alone  for  the  sake  of  Empire,  but 
for  the  preservation  of  what  is  best  in 


THE  TAXATION  OF  FRANCHISES 


463 


Europe  and  what  must  ultimately  be 
best  for  our  own  Dominion. 

In  the  eyes  of  the  whole  world  Ca- 
nada recognised  and  was  forward  to 
the  rescue  when  Britain's  cause  and 
honour  were  at  stake  in  South  Africa; 
and  a  more  recent  expression  of  unity 
and  sympathy  in  the  response  of  our 
citizens  to  the  appeal  of  one  of  our 
g^reat  newspapers   in   connection  with 


the  cry  of  the  poor  in  the  Motherland 
shows  how  deep  and  strong  is  the 
present  desire  of  Canada  for  the  well- 
being  of  our  common  heritage.  Why 
then  should  not  intelligent  Canadians 
look  with  interest  and,  if  need  be,  with 
concern,  on  the  future  of  Britain,  and 
discern  the  signs  on  the  European  hor- 
izon and  elsewhere,  which  must  ere 
long  chequer  the  path  of  Empire  ? 


THE  TAXATION  OF  FRANCHISES 

By   ALAN   C.    THOMPSON 


[HE  application  of  steam  and 
electricity  to  transportation 
has  greatly  increased  and 
cheapened  travelling  facili- 
ties and  the  conveyance  of 
merchandise.  With  every  extension  of 
our  railway  system  demand  has  kept 
pace;  settlements  often  precede  their 
projection,  and  then  clamour  for  their 
construction.  Nothing  perhaps  has 
contributed  more  to  the  settlement  of 
our  waste  places  and  the  spread  of 
modern  civilisation  than  the  ease  and 
cheapness  with  which  men  and  things 
can  be  carried  from  place  to  place. 
With  the  development  of  this  and 
numerous  other  services,  such  as  the 
distribution  of  gas,  water  and  elec- 
tricity for  light,  power  and  heat,  has 
grown  up  a  class  of  corporations 
whose  business  it  is  to  carry  on  these 
public  services  for  their  own  profit. 
Although  many  of  these  conveniences 
were  all  but  unknown  within  the  mem- 
ory of  persons  still  living,  they  have 
come  to  be  regarded  as  absolutely 
essential  to  the  comfort  and  well-being 
of  the  community. 

It  was  natural  that,  when  first  pro- 
jected, in  a  new  and  sparsely  settled 
country  like  Canada,  the  enterprising 
citizens  who  promoted  such  undertak- 
ings should  be  liberally  aided  by  the 
public,  and  certainly  no  corporation 
has  any  such  cause  of  complaint  for 
the  lack  of  assistance  or  because  of  a 


grudging  or  bargaining  spirit  mani- 
fested on  such  occasions.  The  aid 
took  various  forms;  sometimes  they 
were  granted  exemption  from  taxa- 
tion, but  more  often  they  obtained 
money  or  lands,  and  not  infrequently 
both.  In  the  very  rare  cases  where  no 
bonus  or  exemption  was  accorded  them 
they  got  the  privilege  or  franchise  for 
their  business  as  a  free  gift. 

In  the  early  days  of  these  enter- 
prises it  was  usually  considered  that 
the  franchise  itself  was  of  no  value; 
and  those  who  were  public-spirited 
enough  to  risk  their  money  and  ener- 
gies in  developing  the  country  in  this 
way  were  conferring  the  favour.  As, 
however,  the  country  grew  in  popula- 
tion, and  greater  strides  were  made  in 
opening  up  and  developing  our  re- 
sources, it  became  apparent  that  the 
mere  right  to  carry  on  these  public  ser- 
vices had  a  monetary  value  varying 
with  the  kind  of  service,  the  popula- 
tion, and  the  fertility  of  the  area  tribu- 
tary to  it.  This  value  first  became 
recognised  in  the  case  of  privileges 
connected  with  our  cities  and  towns, 
and  the  municipal  authorities,  always 
impecunious,  viewed  with  a  hungry 
eye  the  untaxed  privileges  of  the  cor- 
porations. In  consequence  of  the 
development  of  these  values  being 
more  recent  than  the  various  acts 
which  determine  the  rights  of  taxation 
of    our    municipalities,    the    law  was 


464 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


vague  and  obscure.  The  courts  were 
applied  to  and,  with  that  liberality  of 
construction  with  which  the  law  ap- 
pears always  to  be  interpreted  when 
the  interests  of  private  corporations 
are  opposed  to  that  of  the  public,  it 
was  held  that  the  franchise  was  not  a 
tangible  property,  but  of  the  nature  of 
good-will,  and  therefore  exempt. 

That  this  decision  is  not  based  upon 
facts  is  apparent  when  it  is  considered 
that  while  a  good-will  is  extremely  dif- 
ficult to  transfer  effectively,  there  is  no 
trouble  about  the  transfer  of  a  fran- 
chise, and  its  transfer  absolutely 
secures  to  the  holders  all  the  profits  of 
the  privilege;  while  cases  are  on  record 
of  franchises  being  sold  for  large  sums 
immediately  upon  their  being  granted, 
and  before  anything  was  done  to 
develop  them.  So  far  there  appears 
to  have  been  no  attempt  to  reopen  the 
question,  or  even  to  get  the  opinion  of 
the  Privy  Council  on  the  matter, 
though  for  many  reasons  in  addition  to 
those  given  above  it  is  probable  that 
the  decision  is  not  good  law,  as  it  cer- 
tainly is  bad  policy  and  contrary  to 
common-sense. 

A  franchise  may  be  defined  as  the 
right  of  using  public  property  for  pri- 
vate gain.  This  public  property  invar- 
iably involves  the  use  of  land  in  some 
form.  A  franchise  then  is  not  good- 
will, but  the  right  of  using  land,  and  is 
virtually  a  leasehold,  and  to  all  intents 
and  purposes  is  real  estate.  In  Eng- 
land, for  the  purpose  of  taxation,  it  is 
so  classed,  and  there  is  little  doubt 
that  were  the  courts  again  called  on  to 
consider  the  case  they  would  find  the 
existing  assessment  acts  of  the  various 
provinces  quite  wide  enough  for  their 
taxation.  A  conservative  estimate  of 
the  value  of  the  franchises  of  Canada 
which  at  present  escape  taxation  is 
$240,000,000.  This,  at  the  average 
rate  of  taxation,  would  yield  a  revenue 
to  the  municipalities  served,  or  rather 
controlled  by  them,  something  like 
$4,000,000  a  year.  It  is  little  wonder 
then  that  the  taxation  of  franchises  is 
one  of  the  live  questions  of  municipal 
government,  and  already  several  of  the 
states    of    the    American  Union   have 


adopted  the  principle,  and  the  taxation 
of  franchises  form  part  of  their  recog- 
nised source  of  revenue.  The  State  of 
New  York  passed  an  act  for  this  pur- 
pose as  early  as  1900. 

Those  who  advocate  the  taxing  of 
wealth  or  value  wherever  found  should 
require  no  convincing  that  this  im- 
mense value  should  no  longer  escape. 
While  those  who  contend  that  privi- 
lege alone  should  be  taxed  see  in  fran- 
chises a  great  source  of  public  revenue 
hitherto  untapped,  and  one,  too,  which 
will  reduce  rather  than  increase  the 
burden  which  industry  has  to  bear.  A 
serious  difficulty,  however,  appears  to 
meet  us  at  the  very  outset:  that  is  the 
finding  of  a  satisfactory  method  by 
which  to  determine  the  value  of  a  fran- 
chise. There  are  many  different  kinds  of 
franchises;  some,  like theToronto Street 
Railway's,  are  exclusive  monopolies, 
others,  like  some  steam  railways,  have 
more  or  less  competition  from  other 
lines.  Then  there  are  gas  companies 
who,  though  they  have  no  opposition 
from  other  gas  companies,  are  yet  sub- 
ject to  the  competition  of  electricity. 
The  length  of  time  the  franchises  have 
to  run  is  an  important  factor  in  the 
value;  some  are  perpetual,  others  are 
limited  to  a  term  of  years,  in  which 
case  the  value  will  grow  less  and  less 
as  the  term  draws  to  a  close.  All 
these  considerations  have  a  direct 
bearing  on  the  selling  value  of  the 
franchise,  but  have  absolutely  nothing 
to  do  with  its  value  for  the  purpose  of 
taxation.  The  taxable  value  should 
be  based  upon  the  earning  power  of 
the  privilege,  and  can  readily  be  ascer- 
tained by  capitalising  the  net  earnings 
at  the  current  rate  of  interest  and 
deducting  the  actual  capital  invested; 
this  will  give  the  value  of  the  fran- 
chise. Thus  if  a  company  have  $100,- 
000  invested  in  an  electric  lighting 
plant,  and  after  paying  all  expenses 
are  earning  $15,000  a  year,  this  cap- 
italised at  5%  would  represent  a  value 
of  $300,000;  by  deducting  the  actual 
capital  invested  of  $100,000,  we  find 
that  the  value  of  the  franchise  is 
$200,000. 

In  this  way  the  question  of  compe- 


THE  TAXATION  OF  FRANCHISES 


465 


titioa  or  the  time  the  franchise  has  to 
run  would  not  be  a  factor  in  the  esti- 
mate, but  simply  its  earnings  for  the 
current  year.  The  next  year,  if  com- 
petition cut  down  the  earnings  or  the 
increase  in  population  added  to  them, 
the  assessment  should  be  varied  accor- 
dingly. So  far  from  a  terminable 
franchise  being  of  less  and  less  value 
as  it  approached  its  expiration,  it 
would  grow  more  and  more  valuable  if, 
as  is  usually  the  case,  the  population 
kept  on  increasing. 

It  is  this  fact,  that  the  value  depends 
on  the  presence  of  the  people,  that  is 
the  strongest  argument  for  the  taxing 
of  these  privileges. 

The  value  is  a  public  value;  it  is 
created  by  the  people,  not  by  the  oper- 
ators; and  every  increase  in  population 
or  in  their  wealth  and  intelligence, 
adds  to  it.  It  is  essentially  a  land 
value  and,  like  every  other  land  value, 
gets  a  direct  benefit  from  the  expendi- 
ture of  public  money  and  the  existence 
of  good  municipal  government.  Gas 
companies  must  use  public  streets  for 
their  mains;  the  telephone  and  telegraph 
companies  must  have  ground  in  which 
to  plant  their  poles  or  bury  their  wires; 
the  electric  and  other  railways  must 
use  land  for  their  rails,  and  without  the 
use  of  land  they  would  all  be  as  help- 
less as  a  man  in  mid -ocean.  It  is 
sometimes  claimed  on  behalf  of  rail- 
ways that  these  lands  are  of  no  more 
value  than  the  adjoining  farm  land, 
and  that  their  right-of-way  could  be 
duplicated  at  the  same  cost  per  acre  as 
the  adjoining  farm,  and,  therefore, 
they  should  not  be  assessed  at  any 
higher  figure.  But  this  is  not  true, 
for  without  their  franchise  they  would 
have  no  right  to  cross  the  public  high- 
ways, and  without  this  their  property 
would  be  simply  a  series  of  disjointed 
strips,  valueless  alike  for  railway  pur- 


poses or  agriculture.  Again,  it  is 
urged  that  where  a  corporation  pays 
for  their  franchise,  either  by  a  lump  sum 
or  by  an  annual  rent,  they  should  not 
be  asked  to  pay  taxes.  But  the  ques- 
tion is  not  how  they  got  it,  but  what  is 
it  worth  ?  and  there  is  no  more  reason 
for  exempting  them  on  the  score  of 
purchase  than  for  exempting  the  pur- 
chaser of  a  lot  from  the  municipality. 
The  city  of  Toronto  owns  the  island 
that  forms  the  harbour,  and  leases 
ground  to  tenants;  but  though  they 
pay  rent  to  the  city,  this  does  not  ex- 
empt them  from  city  taxes  and, 
though  the  rent  is  fixed  for  a  term  of 
years,  the  tax  on  the  land  is  increased 
with  every  increase  in  the  land  value. 
The  principle  of  taxing  land  values  is 
a  part  and  parcel  of  our  municipal  sys- 
tem, consequently  it  is  only  necessary 
to  establish  the  fact  that  franchises 
secure  the  right  to  use  land,  to  prove 
that  they  are  really  included  within  the 
scope  of  our  present  system  of  taxa- 
tion, and  that  they  have  been  up  to  the 
present  escaping  their  fair  share. 

No  doubt  this  view  of  the  case  will 
be  combatted  by  the  beneficiaries  of 
the  present  interpretation  of  the  law, 
but  even  if  this  view  is  wrong  it  is  no 
reason  why  the  law  should  not  be 
amended.  Nothing  in  legislation  is  so 
thoroughly  understood  as  that  our  sys- 
tem of  taxation  is  subject  to  change 
without  notice  and  without  compensa- 
tion to  the  interests  adversely  affected. 
If  then  the  public  interests  demand 
the  taxation  of  these  values,  and  this 
is  generally  conceded,  any  doubt  of 
the  legality  of  such  a  proceeding 
should  be  dissipated  by  such  amend- 
ments as  shall  make  it  absolutely  clear, 
and  make  franchises  liable  to  assess- 
ment at  their  full  value  based  upon 
their  earning  capacity. 


TT  needs  no  prophet  to  predict  that  po- 
-^  litically  Russia  cannot  always  re- 
main as  it  is.  The  tendency  towards  self- 
gfovernment  is  as  certain  in  a  commun- 
ity as  is  the  desire  of  the  individual  to 
order  his  own  life  in  his  own  way.  It 
is  to  little  or  no  purpose  to  say  that 
the  Russian  peasant  is  dull,  unambi- 
tious and  unenterprising.  That  is  all 
true;  and  if  there  was  to  be  no  change 
until  the  moujiks  brought  it  about,  the 
Czar  might  sleep  soundly  in  his  palace. 
The  populace  of  St.  Petersburg,  how- 
ever, if  the  army  got  out  of  hand,  would 
be  quite  competent  to  overturn  the  dyn- 
asty, and  the  myriad-headed  peasantry 
would  hear  of  it  in  such  a  vague  and 
distant  way  as  to  be  practically  un- 
moved by  the  intelligence.  If  the  icons 
in  the  corners  of  their  dwellings,  with 

THE  RECIPROCITY  QUESTION 


THE   CAUSE    OF   THE   COLD   WEATHER 


(Uncle  Sam  doesn't  seem  to  find  the  latchstring 
out  at  Miss  Canada's  front  door.  But  he  must 
make  it  clear  that  be  means  business,  and  is  able 
to  take  a  reciprocal  view.) 

— Record-Herald  (Chicago) 
466 


the  sacred  lamps  burning  before  them, 
gave  no  sign,  they  would  consider  that 
all  was  well.  Everything,  therefore, 
depends  on  the  fidelity  of  the  Imperial 
guards  and  the  disposition  of  the  work- 
men of  St.  Petersburg.  Both  are 
drawn  from  these  same  icon-worship- 
ping peasants.  In  their  rural  seats 
their  good-nature,  thoughtlessness  and 
stolidity  are  proverbial.  Has  city  life 
changed  these  characteristics?  The 
Nihilist  propagandists  are  undoubtedly 
in  their  midst  prompting  them  to  dis- 
order and  revenge. 

Had  the  Czar  possessed  the  bon- 
homie and  quick  tact  which  our  own 
Richard  displayed  when  he  ranged 
himself  at  the  head  of  Wat  Tyler's 
men,  after  that  disturber  had  been 
slain,  and  offered  himself  as  their 
leader  and  champion,  it  would  not 
have  been  necessary  to  record  the 
slaughter  of  the  late  unhappy  Sab- 
bath. But  the  Czar  is  evidently  not 
such  a  man.  He  appears  to  have 
resented  Father  Gopon's  demand 
much  in  the  spirit  that  an  upstart 
nouveau  riche  would  resent  a  de- 
mand for  a  conference  by  his  coach- 
man. Autocracy  should  always  be 
open  to  receive  the  petition  of 
those  over  whom  it  rules  by  Divine 
authority.  Peter  the  Great's  de- 
scription of  himself  as  the  auto- 
cratic monarch,  who  has  to  give  an 
account  of  his  acts  to  no  one  on 
earth,  but  has  a  power  and  author- 
ity to  rule  his  states  and  lands  as  a 
Christian  sovereign  according  to  his 
own  will  and  judgment,  does  not,  it 
is  true,  leave  a  loophole  for  the  idea 
that  he  should  in  any  way  consult 
his  people  or  listen  to  their  cries. 
And  the  attitude  of  his  successors 
has  ever  been  that  the  Russian  people 


CURRENT  EVENTS  ABROAD 


467 


are  the  useful  instruments  by  which 
the  political  aims  of  their  rulers  are 
to  be  accomplished. 


But  personal  rule  log^ically  implies 
that  the  ruler  must  admit  the  ruled 
to  personally  state  their  grievances 
or  desires  to  him.  In  so  vast  an 
Empire  as  Russia  such  a  method 
of  learning  the  complaints  of  the 
people  is,  of  course,  impracticable  ; 
but  when  a  portion  of  his  subjects 
desire  to  avail  themselves  of  that 
means  of  communication  he  should 
have  respected  their  wishes  at  any 
hazard.  The  word  hazard,  how- 
ever, may  supply  the  keynote  of  the 
refusal.  The  Czar  cannot  at  any 
time  meet  a  miscellaneous  number 
of  his  people  without  incurring  great 
danger.  When  it  is  possible  to  carry 
in  a  form  not  much  larger  than  an 
orange  enough  destructives  to  blow 
a  ponderous  state  carriage  into  the 
air,  what  security  would  the  Czar  have 
that  some  Czolgozs  would  not  take 
advantage  of  the  admission  of  the 
rabble  to  an  audience  to  wreak  the 
murderous  commissions  of  the  Nihil- 
ists upon  him?  The  painful  fact  is 
that  while  the  young  monarch  is  the 
Little  Father  (Batushka)  to  millions  of 
his  subjects,  to  a  few  others  he  is  the 
tyrant  whom  it  is  a  duty  to  destroy. 

There  is  a  strange  fascination  in 
watching  the  course  of  events  on  the 
Neva  just  now.  It  seems  to  some  of 
us  that  we  are  witnessing  the  enact- 
ment of  a  drama  which  we  read  years 
ago  in  the  fervent  prose  of  Thomas 
Carlyle.  It  is  a  repetition,  but  on  an 
immeasureably  vaster  scale,  of  the  exper- 
ience of  seeing  at  the  theatre  the  dram- 
atisation of  an  interesting  novel  which 
has  been  in  everybody's  hands.  The 
invariable  impression  is  that  it  is  now 
and  then  compared  with  the  story,  and 
these  workmen's  riots  on  the  streets  of 
St.  Petersburg,  Lodz  and  Warsaw  bear 
the  same  relation  to  the  epic  of  Car- 
lyle. They  indicate  the  mere  clumsy 
passions  of  the  coarsest  texture  of 
human  nature   compared  with   the  re- 


ONE  VMEW  OF  MR.  BALFOUR 


MR.    FACING   BOTH-WATS 

1  m  aot  for  Free  Trade,  and  I'm  not  for  Protection  : 
I  approve  of  tbem  both,  aod  to  both  have  objection. 

—  Westminster  Budget 

fined  malignity  and  theatric  rage  that 
conceived  at  once  the  feast  of  the 
Supreme  Being  and  the  daily  journeys 
of  the  tumbrils  to  the  guillotine.  It  is 
presumptuous  on  the  part  of  us  who 
are  so  far  from  the  scene,  and  amid 
facts  so  foreign  to  us,  to  pass  an  opin- 
ion of  what  is  to  be  the  end  of  all  this, 
but  it  is  not  rash  to  conclude  that  the 
power  of  autocracy  has  been  more 
shaken  in  the  past  two  months  than  in 
the  past  200  years.  Within  that  period 
it  has  lost  reputation  for  the  one  qual- 
ity for  which  alone  it  might  be  endured, 
namely,  efficiency.  The  power  that 
humbled  the  Swedish  conqueror  at 
Pultowa,  which  drove  in  irretrievable 
ruin  across  the  Beresina  the  greatest 
warrior  the  world  has  ever  seen,  at  the 
head  of  the  most  formidable  host  the 
world  has  ever  seen  created  a  glam- 
our that  dazzled  subject  and  non-sub- 
ject alike.  The  power  that  is  humil- 
iated on  land  and  sea  by  a  little- 
considered  race  of  dwarfs,  and  that 
admittedly  is  unprepared,  ill-organised, 
and    even  lacking  in    patriotism,  has 


468 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 
THE  GREAT  QUESTION  IN  SPAIN 


ALFONSO   SEEKS   A    BRIDE 


— Life  (New  York) 


been  unveiled  and  discovered  for  what 
it  really  is — a  corrupted  and  arrogant 
oligarchy  with  a  weak  princeling  at  its 
head.  It  has  produced  nowhere  the 
strong,  dominant  figure  that  towers 
above  the  weltering  sea  of  humanity 
and  controls  its  tides.  Not  even  a 
Mirabeau.  One  voice  alone  rises  above 
the  din — the  voice  of  Tolstoi,  a  second 
John  the  Baptist,  but  he  prophecies  of 
no  coming  saviour,  but  asks  his  coun- 
trymen to  turn  their  eyes  backward  on 
the  lowly  Nazarene  and  find  in  His  life 
and  example  an  escape  out  of  the 
slough  in  which  they  are  mired.  But 
his  words  are  read  by  a  hundred  to 
whom  they  are  not  addressed  for  every 
one  to  whom  they  are.  The  Russian 
peasant  is  more  concerned  about  where 
he  is  to  get  his  next  surfeit  of  vodka, 
and  lights  the  lamp  before  his  ikon 
when  the  day  after  headache  and  re- 
pentance comes. 

0(5?) 

Meantime  the  two  great  armies  are 
facing  each  other  buried  in  the  earth, 
not  so  much  to  escape  each  other  as 
to  escape  a  more  insistent  and  search- 
ing foe — the  Manchurian  winter.  The 
Baltic  fleet  is  still  outside  the  ken  of 
the  telegraph  wire,  in  the  trackless 
^wastes  of  the  Indian  Ocean.  The 
delay  may  be  interpreted  as  being 
favourable  to  that  power  which  is  pop- 
ularly supposed  to  have  the  greatest 
resources,  namely,  Russia.  But  she 
may  be  only  accumulating  at  Harbin 
what  will  prove  to  be  a  rich  spoil  for 
the  Japanese  when  the  day  for  ruinous 
overthrow  arrives. 


Some  of  the  British  newspapers  are 
giving  us  a  most  fantastic  interpreta- 
tion of  the  Monroe  doctrine.  Canada 
need  not  fear  an  attack  from  an  enemy, 
they  say,  because  the  United  States 
would  regard  an  invasion  as  contrary 
to  the  Monroe  doctrine.  Canada  will 
only  be  attacked  by  a  European  power 
as  a  possession  of  Great  Britain.  In 
any  war  in  which  Great  Britain  may 
be  engaged  the  people  of  this  country 
will  be  engaged  in  also.  It  would  be 
preposterous  for  the  United  States  to 
permit  us  to  send  aid  to  Britain  and 
yet  prevent  Britain's  foe  from  en- 
deavouring to  punish  us  for  doing 
so.  Our  American  neighbours  would 
have  to  take  one  position  or  the  other. 
They  would  either  have  to  prevent  us 
aiding  Britain  or  suffer  us  to  take 
whatever  knocks  were  being  given  in 
the  contest.  If  they  tried  to  prevent 
us  aiding  Britain  they  would  be  inter- 
fering in  something  with  which  they 
have  no  business.  Canadians  do  not 
need  or  do  not  ask  for  protection  from 
the  United  States.  We  do  not  recog- 
nise the  Monroe  doctrine  as  applying 
to  Canada.  This  was  a  British  coun- 
try before  ever  there  was  a  Monroe  doc- 
trine or  a  United  States  to  announce  it. 

0<S?) 

Our  neighbours  will  perhaps  begin 
to  think  that  instead  of  widening  the 
scope  of  the  Monroe  doctrine  it  would 
be  the  part  of  wisdom  to  narrow  it. 
They  have  just  been  compelled  to  take 
charge  of  the  affairs  of  San  Domingo. 
American  officials  will  be  put  into  the 
custom  house,  and  the  duties  devoted 


CURRENT  EVENTS  ABROAD  469 

MAP  SHOWING  THE  NEW  DISTRIBUTION  OF  THE  BRITISH  FLEET 


The  concentration  of  the  British  fleet  in  new  squadrons,  mainly  in  the  Atlantic  Ocean, 
has  occasioned  much  comment.     This,  apparently,  is  due  to  the  growth  of  the  German  navy. 


to  meeting  the  legitimate  expensesand 
obligations  of  the  island.  It  is  said 
that  the  San  Domingo  negro  is  rapidly 
reverting  to  barbarism.  Cases  of  can- 
nibalism have  been  reported  from  the 
interior.  The  condition  of  the  negro 
in  the  United  States  and  in  the  various 
West  Indian  Islands  would  form  a  very 
interesting  enquiry   and,  from  what   I 


have  seen,  I  apprehend  that  the  en- 
quirer would  find  that  the  negro  of  the 
British  possessions  is  altogether  a 
more  civilised  and  self-respecting  being, 
although  his  material  surroundings  are 
not  as  favourable  as  in  the  South,  than 
his  brethren  elsewhere  north  of  the 
Caribbean  sea. 

John  A.   Ewan 


# 


LOVE'S    ROUNDELAY 


BY    INGLIS    MORSE 


A    RED-ROSE  wreath  my  lady  wears 
^^     And  scent  of  jasmine  in  her  hair, 
While  in  her  eyes  a  lovely  air 
Doth  sweeter  grow  with  passing  years. 

Her  face  and  form  and  soul  are  mine — 
Ah,  mine  they  are  forever  more! 
Just  as  I  dreamed  in  days  of  yore 
My  dream  of  her  sweet  self  divine. 


TAWDRY  APPAREL 

O-DAY  in  large  towns  and 
cities  the  effect  of  the 
bargain-counter  is  plainly 
evident;  you  can  almost  see 
the  price-tags  dangling 
from  the  various  articles  of  wearing 
apparel.  As  you  pass  by  the  motley 
crowds  on  popular  thoroughfares,  you 
recall  to  mind  the  various  periodical 
displays  of  new  goods,  the  countless 
ready-to-wear  or  neat  sailor  hats,  and 
the  cheap  but  good  dress  materials; 
and  you  find  yourself  wondering  what 
becomes  of  them,  and  why  the  people 
as  a  community  do  not  look  well 
dressed.  Individually,  and  I  do  not 
exclude  any  class,  the  well-dressed  wo- 
man is  the  exception.  By  "well- 
dressed"  I  do  not  mean  expensive  toil- 
ets, showily  attractive,  nor  bearing  the 
stamp  of  any  fancy-priced  modiste,  but 
I  do  mean  toilets  of  good  material  and 
quiet  colour,  and  of  much  the  same 
colour  throughout,  and  neat  and  at- 
tractive by  virtue  of  simplicity.  Take 
as  an  example  a  costume  noticed  re- 
cently in  Toronto.     The  material  was 


inexpensive — a  heavy  woollen 
fabric    of    open    weave,    and 
plainly    made;     the    walking- 
skirt  pleated  at  the  seams;  the  short 
coat  with  a  narrow  vest  of  suede  a 
shade   lighter  than   the  suit,  which 
was  dull  olive  green;  a  plain,  brown 
felt  hat  and  fur  boa  completing  the 
costume.      Another   dress    worn    in 
New  York  during  the  past  season, 
and  admired  more  than   any  other 
in  a  drawing-room  famous    for  its 
beautiful    dresses,    was    of   a    thin 
wool  and   silk  mixture,   and    made 
with  graceful,  flowing  lines,  its  only 
ornaments  being  tucks,  three  in  the 
skirt,  and  three  in  the  bodice,  with 
a  fall  of  soft,  white  lace  round  the  top 
of  the  bodice.      So  much  for  simplicity 
in  form  and  colour. 

On  the  other  hand,  take  as  examples 
several  dresses  seen  on  the  street-cars 
during  the  past  year.  One  was  of 
calico,  and  made  pretentiously,  as  a 
print  gown  never  should  be.  The 
more  furbelows  on  such  a  dress  the 
shabbier  it  looks  when  the  end  of  its 
first  season  is  at  hand.  The  colour, 
too,  had  not  been  selected  with  a  view 
to  durability,  and  so  it  had  faded  to  an 
ugly  shade,  and  beside,  was  soiled  and 
limp-looking.  And  yet  in  spite  of  all 
this  you  would  have  passed  it  by  un- 
noticed had  it  not  been  for  the  brand 
new  deep  collar  of  black  sequined  net 
which  scintillated  about  the  woman's 
shoulders.  It  was  the  incongruity 
which  attracted  attention.  And  the 
bargain-counter  was  at  fault — or,  was 
it?  Why  was  such  an  article  ever 
manufactured  ?  In  the  beginning 
whence  came  the  demand  for  the 
tawdry  thing  ?  And  once  on  the 
market,  was  not  the  merchant  just- 
ified   in    getting   it  off  his    hands  at 


470 


WOMAN'S  SPHERE 


471 


any  counter  after  a  change  in  fashion 
had  sealed  its  fate  ?  Another  woman, 
wearing  a  soiled  print  dress,  had  on  a 
hat  trimmed  with  bedraggled  plumes, 
than  which  there  is  nothing  uglier. 
Plumes  should  be  worn,  if  at  all,  only 
by  women  who  can  afford,  and  have 
the  sense  to  burn  them  at  the  first  sign 
of  wear  and  tear,  and  not  pass  them  on 
to  make  some  badly-dressed  person 
look  worse.  May  the  day  soon  come 
when  they  will  no  longer  be  offered  for 
sale  !  They  are  a  luxury  which  many 
who  wear  them  can  ill  afford  and, 
when  you  look  over  a  city  and  see  the 
great  numbers  worn,  you  cannot  but 
think  with  pity  of  the  men  who  toil  in- 
doors from  morning  till  night  to  pay 
for  these,  and  many  other  useless, 
senseless  ornaments. 

Then  there  were  other  women  wear- 
ing cheap,  shabby,  and  loud-coloured 
flowers;  and  others  again,  decorated 
with  soiled  or  tattered  laces;  and  still 
others  bedecked  with  much  cheap  and 
vulgar  jewellery.  And  again  you  ask 
why  are  such  things  ever  manufac- 
tured? And  why  will  women  wear 
shabby  flowers,  and  cheap  lace  untid- 
ily, and  various  medleys  of  ugly  gar- 
ments and  vulgar  ornaments  ?  If  only 
the  government  of  a  country  would 
take  the  matter  in  hand  and  deal  with 
the  manufacturers  of  these  despicable 
goods  as  it  does  with  the  makers  of 
spurious  coin! 

At  the  present  time,  however,  there 
are  at  least  two  forces  at  work  which 
give  promise  of  better  things  for  the 
future  in  Canada.  In  the  first  place, 
there  is  the  plain  shirt-waist  suit,  with 
corresponding  hat  for  women  of  all 
classes.  It  is  taking  a  surer  hold  as 
the  seasons  come  and  go,  and  should 
satisfy  the  most  fastidious  of  those 
who  have  been  on  the  watch  for  a  con- 
ventional dress  for  women.  Taboo 
anything  that  is  more  masculine.  If 
there  is  danger  of  your  being  influ- 
enced by  any  fanatic  on  that  question, 
imagine  what  you  would  think  of  a  man 
you  might  meet  wearing,  for  instance, 
a  woman's  skirt  with  his  ordinary  coat, 
and  carrying  a  lace  sunshade;  that  is, 
if  you  care  at  all  for  a  man's  opinion. 


Secondly,  there  is  the  Salvation 
Army,  which  I  think  is  responsible 
for  a  certain  vital  influence  in  the  right 
direction  among  various  classes;  and 
while  it  prohibits  laces  and  feathers, 
aud  artificial  flowers  of  all  kinds,  and 
jewellery,  would  it  not  be  preferable 
not  to  see  these  at  all,  rather  than  to 
be  confronted  at  every  turn  with  the 
meaner  sorts  ?  I  think  so.  And  yet 
cannot  the  happy  medium  be  found  and 
maintained?  For  instance,  if  a  woman 
will  wear  lace,  let  it  be  good,  and 
clean,  and  whole,  and  sparingly  used, 
as  the  French  use  it,  to  show  the  pat- 
tern; let  her  artificial  flowers  be  modest 
in  colour,  and  fresh-looking;  her 
plumes,  if  any,  be  kept  for  special  oc- 
casions; her  jewellery  be  only  of  the 
best,  and  useful,  and  modestly  worn. 
Let  her  resolve  that  she  will  never 
open  her  purse  to  pay  for  a  tawdry  ar- 
ticle of  any  description  and,  above  all, 
avoid  forming  the  habit  of  bargain- 
hunting.  It  is,  at  best,  a  pernicious 
one. 

In  small  towns  women,  as  a  class, 
are  better  dressed,  and  there  is  this  one 
criticism  for  the  farmer's  daughter.  It 
is  in  the  matter  of  hat-buying  she  is  at 
fault.  She  must  have,  apparently,  a 
pretentious  one,  at  no  matter  what  cost 
to  the  remainder  of  her  costume.  She 
is  seen  frequently  in  town  in  a  shabby 
suit,  but  wearing  a  handsome  hat, 
sometimes  even  a  pattern  hat;  and  you 
cannot  but  wonder  if,  ostrich-like,  she 
imagines  her  body  is  as  is  her  head. 

Annte  Merrill 


A  DEFINITION  OF  LOVE 

IN  Sir  Gilbert  Parker's  latest  novel, 
A  Ladder  of  Swords,  there  is  an 
interesting  conversation  between  the 
heroine  and  Queen  Elizabeth.  Ang^le 
tells  how  Michel  saved  her  from  death, 
though  he  was  seven  times  wounded. 
She  points  out  that  his  action  had 
need  of  recompense.  The  following 
part  of  the  conversation  is  as  follows, 
the  Queen  speaking  first: 

"And  'tis  this   ye  would   call  love 
betwixt  ye — sweet  givings  and  takings 


472 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


of  looks  and  soft  sayings,  and  un- 
changeable and  devouring  faith.  Is't 
this — and  is  this  all?" 

The  girl  had  spoken  out  of  an  inno- 
cent heart,  but  the  challenge  in  the 
Queen's  voice  worked  upon  her  and, 
though  she  shrank  a  little,  the  fulness 
of  her  soul  welled  up  and  strengthened 
her.  She  spoke  again,  and  now  in  her 
need  and  in  her  will  to  save  the  man 
she  loved,  by  making  this  majesty  of 
England  his  protector,  her  words  had 
eloquence. 

*•  It  is  not  all,  noble  Queen.  Lcve 
is  more  than  that.  It  is  the  waking 
in  the  poorest  minds,  in  the  most  bar- 
ren souls,  of  something  greater  than 
themselves — as  a  chemist  should  find 
a  substance  that  would  give  all  other 
things  by  touching  of  them  a  new  and 
higher  value;  as  light  and  sun  draw 
from  the  earth  the  tendrils  of  the  seed 
that  else  had  lain  unproducing.  'Tis 
not  alone  soft  words  and  touch  of  hand 
or  lip.  This  caring  wholly  for  one 
outside  one's  self  kills  that  self  which 
else  would  make  the  world  blind  and 
deaf  and  dumb.  None  hath  loved 
greatly  but  hath  helped  to  love  in 
others.  Ah,  most  sweet  Majesty,  for 
great  souls  like  thine,  souls  born 
great,  this  medicine  is  not  needful,  for 
already  hath  the  love  of  a  nation  in- 
spired and  enlarged  it;  but  for  souls 
like  mine,  and  of  so  many,  none  better 
and  none  worse  than  me,  to  love  one 
other  soul  deeply  and  abidingly  lifts  us 
higher  than  ourselves.  Your  Majesty 
hath  been  loved  by  a  whole  people,  by 
princes  and  great  men  in  a  different 
sort — is  it  not  the  world's  talk  that 
none  that  ever  reigned  hath  drawn 
such  slavery  of  princes,  and  of  great 
nobles  who  have  courted  death  for 
hopeless  love  of  one  beyond  their  star? 
And  is  it  notwritten  in  the  world's  book 
also  that  the  Queen  of  England  hath 
loved  no  man,  but  hath  poured  out  her 
heart  to  a  people;  and  hath  served 
great  causes  in  all  the  earth  because 
of  that  love  which  hath  still  enlarged 
her  soul,  dowered  at  birth  beyond 
reckoning."  Tears  filled  her  eyes. 
"Ah,  your  supreme  Majesty,  to  you 
whose  heart  is  universal,  the  love  of 


one  poor  mortal  seemeth  a  small  things 
but  to  those  of  little  consequence  it  is 
the  cable  by  which  they  unsteadily  hold 
over  the  chasm  'twixt  life  and  immor- 
tality. To  thee,  oh  greatest  monarch 
of  the  world,  it  is  a  staff  on  which 
thou  needest  not  lean,  which  thou  hast 
never  grasped;  to  me  it  is  my  all; 
without  it  I  fail  and  fall  and  die." 

She  had  spoken  as  she  felt,  yet,  be- 
cause she  was  a  woman  and  guessed 
the  mind  of  another  woman,  she  had 
touched  Elizabeth  where  her  armour 
was  weakest. 

• 

CANADA'S  GLORY 

The  days  grow  dark  with  a  dreary  gloom, 

The  shadows  are  weird  and  deep, 
The  wind  is  singing  a  mournful  dirge 

While  the  red  sun  sinks  to  sleep. 
The  dusk  is  gathering  cold  and  chill, 

The  shadows  beckon  the  night. 
The  naked  trees  stand  gaunt  and  lone 

Outlined  on  the  fields  of  white. 

IN  the  old  days  of  our  childhood,  we 
counted  on  having  our  first  snow- 
ball fight  somewhere  about  Guy 
Fawkes'  day,  and  we  were  confident 
that  we  should  find  the  walks  clear  and 
dry  and  ready  for  ball  playing  on  All 
Fools'  day.  Now  the  autumns  have 
become  later  each  year  and  the  winters 
loiter  op  their  way  seemingly  forget- 
ful of  the  claims  of  spring.  If  the 
arrival  of  the  seasons  continue  to 
change  we  may  expect  shortly  to  cele- 
brate an  Australian  Christmas  lang- 
uishing on  our  lawns  beneath  the 
spreading  trees. 

As  in  connection  with  most  things 
that  belong  to  one,  we  are  censured 
if  we  display  inordinate  praise,  so  no 
doubt  certain  individuals  will  attack  me 
if  I  draw  attention  to  and  become  too 
enthusiastic  about  the  climate  of  our 
country.  When  we  pause  to  consider 
the  climates  of  different  countries,  we 
can  realise  that  in  no  country  under 
God's  blue  skies  have  they  a  climate 
to  compare  with  Canada.  That  is, 
considering  it  all  the  year  around. 

Down  in  California,  about  which 
certain  people  like  to  boast,  consider 
the  disagreeableness  of  the  offseason! 
Abominable  heat;  in  many  places  the 


H'OMAN'S  SPHERE 


473 


A    BAND    CONCERT    IN    EARLS   COl  KT,    LONDON.    KNt.LANP 
PkoloQrapk  takm  on  Whtl-Sunday 


roads  sprinkled  with  oil  in  order  to 
keep  down  the  dust.  Out-of-door  life 
impossible  between  noon  and  sun- 
down, and  innumerable  other  condi- 
tions which  prevail  for  nearly  half  the 
year.  Farther  north  again  in  Wash- 
ington Territory  and  Oregon  they  bask 
in  a  delightful  five  months  of  rain  when 
a  woman  is  afraid  to  venture  out  of 
doors  without  top-boots  on.  I  saw  a 
pair  of  these  top-boots  once  and  the 
wearer  remarked  that  she  always  had 
hers  made  to  order  as  shop  boots  were 
scarcely  strong  enough  to  keep  out  the 
water. 

The  off  season  in  the  south  is  too 
well  known  to  dwell  upon.  A  New 
Orleans  girl  remarked  to  me  once, 
"  Its  real  abominable  down  there  after 
June  and  one  simply  must  clear  out  or 
run  the  chance  of  going  to  bed  with 
fever." 

Even  dear  Old  England  over  the 
sea  becomes  so  tangled  in  mists  that 
umbrella  factories  are  most  productive 
concerns  and  the  girl  with  straight 
hair  is  compelled  to  wear  a  wig  or 
look  eccentric. 

Here  we  have  no  off  season.  They 
are  one  and  all  glorious  in  themselves. 
The  limpid  summer  with  its  roses  and 
6 


sunshine,  the  sun  scarcely  ever  too 
warm  for  comfort.  Tlie  golden 
autumn  with  its  fruit  and  incompar- 
able foliage.  Then  the  clear  bright 
winter  with  the  invigorating  air  and 
that  ever-present  sunshine.  1  think  if 
ever  a  country  deserved  the  sun  for  an 
emblem,  Canada  does.  And  then  the 
spring — the  glorious,  budding  spring 
when,  if  we  feel  a  trifle  impatient  to 
see  the  snow  still  linger  in  the  hollows, 
we  have  only  to  brush  the  white  mantle 
aside  and  see  the  tiny  green  things 
actually  sprouting  I 

The  writer  sometime  ago  contributed 
an  article  on  Canada  to  an  English 
magazine.  Some  reader,  who  will 
likely  not  be  satisfied  when  he  passes 
the  golden  gates,  wrote  to  the  editor 
and  took  exception  to  a  certain  remark 
about  the  country.  The  editor  left 
the  question  open  for  discussion.  In 
the  next  issue  several  letters  appeared 
by  Old  Country  people  who  had  either 
lived  as  residents  or  had  visited  in 
Cnaada  for  some  time  and  who  thought 
that  too  much  praise  could  not  be 
given  to  the  Land  of  the  Maple.  An 
honest  conviction  will  usually  make 
itself  heard. 

Esther  Talbot  Kingsmill, 


THE   SHANGAXI    PATROL 

AST  July  there  was  unveiled 
in  Rhodesia,  within  hailing 
distance  of  Cecil  Rhodes' 
tomb,  a  monument  to 
Major  Adam  Wilson  and 
his  devoted  followers.  The  monu- 
ment bears  the  simple  inscription: 

TO    BRAVE    MP:N 

In  December,  1893,  Major  Wilson  was 
sent  in  pursuit  of  the  fleeing-  Metabele 
leader,  Lobenguelo.  He  crossed  the 
Shangani  River  at  a  ford  about  twenty 
yards  in  width.  Instead  offinding  a  flee- 
ing enemy  he  found  him  in  considerable 
force.  Wilson  at  once  sent  word  that 
he  needed  reinforcements.  His  twenty 
men  was  thus  increased  to  thirty  odd, 
and  he  camped  near  the  river  over 
night.  In  the  morning  he  found  bod- 
ies of  the  enemy  between  him  and  the 
river.  He  again  sent  for  help,  but  the 
main  body  of  the  British  was  itself 
beating  off  an  attack.  In  the  mean- 
time the  ford  had  become  a  raging 
torrent  three  hundred  yards  wide,  and 
assistance  was  difficult.  Major  Wil- 
son found  himself  cut  off.  He  ringed 
his  horses  and  made  a  final  stand  for 
over  two  hours  and  a  half  against  an 
ever-increasing  enemy.  Ammunition 
ran  short,  as  attack  after  attack  was 
repelled.  One  by  one  the  little  party 
was  shot  or  assegaied,  Major  Wilson 
being  about  the  last  to  die.  Every 
man  not  already  dead  was  killed  in  the 
final  rush.  There  is  no  more  tragic  in- 
cident, no  record  of  greater  bravery  in 
the  annals  of  the  Empire  then  the  story 
of  the  Shangani  Patrol.  The  calm 
courage,  the  unflinching  facing  of  cer- 
tain death  on  the  part  of  this  little 
body  of  men,  made  a  great  impression 
upon  the  natives,  and  did  much  to  in- 
culcate a  respectful  admiration  for  the 
race  which  these  men  so  nobly  and  so 
magnificently  represented.    It  has  made 


more  easy  the  work  of  the  British  in 
South  Africa  and  has  helped  to  lay  the 
basis  for  confidence  and  co-operation. 


THE   ONTARIO    ELECTIONS 

ONE  of  the  most  remarkable  and  re- 
assuring political  verdicts  ever 
rendered  in  Canada  was  that  given  in 
Ontario  on  January  25th.  The  Lib- 
eral administration,  with  the  Hon. 
George  W.  Ross  as  prernier,  was 
defeated  at  the  polls  by  a  majority  of 
35,000  votes,  mainly  because  of  elec- 
toral abuses  of  which  a  certain  section 
of  the  party  had  been  guilty.  As  a 
consequence  Mr.  Ross  has  resigned  and 
a  new  cabinet  has  been  formed  under 
the  Hon.  J.  P.  Whitney.  In  the  new 
Legislature  Mr.  Whitney  will  have  a 
majority  of  thirty-six,  there  being  67 
Conservative  members  and  31  Lib- 
erals. This  is  the  first  Conservative 
victory  in  Ontario  in  thirty-three  years. 
If  political  affairs  in  Ontario  have 
been  disgraceful  in  the  past,  this  ver- 
dict effectually  wipes  off  any  stain  on 
the  Provincial  escutcheon.  The  peo- 
ple showed  clearly  their  ability  to  rise 
above  party  allegiance  when  there  was 
a  clear-cut  issue  as  to  political  purity- 
The  old  administration  was  punished, 
the  new  administration  was  warned, 
and  the  general  political  tone  of  Cana- 
dian life  has  been  materially  improved. 

PUBLIC   EXPENDITURES 

THE  other  day,  in  the  House  of 
Commons,  a  member  of  the  Ad- 
ministration defended  a  certain  course 
of  action  by  stating  that  a  similar 
practice  was  followed  by  his  political 
adversaries  when  in  office.  Surely 
that  Minister  nmst  have  forgotten  his 
oath  of  office.  A  wrong  is  a  wrong  no 
matter  which  political  party  is  guilty 
of  it,  and  it  cannot  be  defended  by  any 


474 


PEOPLE  AND  AFFAIR"; 


475 


such  miserable  subterfuge  as  this. 
A  Conservative  wrong  followed  by 
a  Liberal  wrong  does  not  make 
either  act  just  and  equitable. 
\  There  are  thousands  of  dollars 
squandered  annually  in  this  country 
— even  millions — because  there  is 
no  definite  principle  underlying  the 
distribution  of  new  wharves,  post- 
offices  and  other  public  works 
throughout  the  provinces.  The 
Conservatives  had  no  such  princple 
when  they  were  in  office,  and  the 
Liberals  have  been  but  little  better 
in  this  regard.  The  people  recog- 
nised the  inefficiency  of  the  Con- 
servative administrators,  and  turned 
from  them;  a  Liberal  administration 
was  put  in  power,  and  one  member 
of  it  proceeds  to  justify  his  conduct 
by  saying  the  Conservatives  follow- 
ed the  same  practices.  The  only 
ray  of  hope  in  the  situation  is  that 
the  Cabinet  Minister  who  resorted 
to  that  excuse  probably  did  so  in  a 
moment  of  thoughtlessness,  due  to 
the  fact  that  he  is  new  to  his  work. 
Yet,  even  allowing  for  that,  such 
a  defence   must  not  go  unchallenged. 

The  present  administration  has 
given  the  country  many  reforms,  and 
it  is  to  be  hoped  that  the  good  work  is 
not  ended.  Fresh  from  the  country, 
with  a  splendid  majority  and  a  new 
lease  of  political  life,  it  should  be  more 
earnest  than  ever  in  placing  the  ex- 
penditures of  all  public  monies  above 
party  or  local  exigencies,  basing  it  as 
far  as  possible  on  principles  which  will 
apply  in  Nova  Scotia  and  British  Col- 
umbia as  well  as  in  Ontario  and  Que- 
bec. 

The  people  interested  in  political 
patronage  in  the  constituencies  would 
probably  protest  much  if  such  a  reform 
were  initiated,  but  a  higher  standard 
of  conduct  is  expected  in  a  Cabinet 
minister  than  in  the  average  local 
party  worker. 

THE    BIBLE    AND   THE    SCHOOLS 

IN  The  Daily   Chronicle ^  of  London, 
England,  thererecently  appeared  an 
editorial  on  "  The  Bible  in  the  School," 


WHITELAW    REID 
The  new  United  States  Ambassador  to  Great  Britain 

in    which     this     significant    sentence 
occurs: 

"At  present  there  is  danj^er,  lest  the  nation, 
weary  of  the  unending  strife  amon^  the  sects, 
may  be  driven  to  seek  peacf  by  secularising 
education." 

The  United  States  and  Canada  have 
already  been  driven  into  that  position, 
and  in  public  schools  on  this  continent 
the  Bible  has  no  prominent  place.  In 
France  the  movement  towards  secular- 
ising education  has^  been  going  on  for 
some  years,  and  the  struggle  is  graph- 
ically pictured  in  Zola's  last  novel.  In 
England  the  same  difficulties  have 
arisen  and  the  same  influences  to- 
wards secular  schools  are  in  evidence. 

There  is  no  objection  to  the  Bible  in 
the  schools  on  the  part  of  any  consid- 
erable class;  it  is  sectarian  education 
which  causes  the  trouble.  The  Roman 
Catholic  Church,  the  most  enthusiastic 
upholder  of  church  or  separate  schools 
at  present,  is  anxious  to  teach  church 
doctrine  rather  than  moral  principles; 
and  the  same  is  true  of  the  English 
Church    in   Great   Britain.     These  or- 


476 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


ganisations  are  unwilling-  to  rely  on 
their  church  services,  their  Sunday- 
schools  and  the  home  teaching  for 
keeping  the  rising  generations  within 
the  bonds  of  religion.  They  desire 
to  enlist  the  services  of  the  school- 
master. The  idea  is  a  good  one, 
where  there  is  only  one  view  of  truth 
and  religion.  As  there  are  many  views, 
the  public  school-master  finds  it  im- 
possible to  serve  many  masters. 

Just  now  this  question  is  again  to 
the  front  in  Canada,  since  the  Roman 
Catholic  Church  desires  to  insert  in  the 
constitution  of  the  new  provinces  now 
being  erected  in  western  Canada,  a  pro- 
vision that  separate  schools  are  an  in- 
alienable right  of  the  Roman  Catholic 
population.  By  such  action  they  hope 
to  prevent  Roman  Catholics  support- 
ing the  secular  public  schools  even 
when  they  desire  to  do  so.  Under  the 
Canadian  constitution  of  1867  this 
right  was  preserved  to  them  in  Ontario 
and  Quebec,  and  it  is  a  considerable 
advantage  to  them  in  these  two  prov- 
inces. In  Manitoba,  created  a  separate 
province  three  years  later,  they  have 
to  a  great  extent  lost  ground,  because 
the  declaration  concerning  Separate 
Schools  in  that  province  was  not 
equally  binding.  They  propose  to  pre- 
vent any  such  conditions  in  the  new 
provinces.  Whether  the  majority  of  the 
people,  who  stoutly  stood  for  the  right 
of  Manitoba  to  decide  this  matter  for 
itself,  will  take  a  similar  attitude  in 
regard  to  the  new  constitutions  is  a 
question  which  is  agitating  the  public 
to-day.  The  answer  will  be  interest- 
ing, perhaps  politically  dramatic. 


Rt.  Hon.  Sir  WiLKRiD  Lairier  (Prime 
Minister).  Mr.  Flint,  the  first  duty  which 
devolves  on  this  House  at  the  opening  of  this 
new  parliament  is  to  at  once  proceed  to  the 
election  of  a  Speaker.  I  need  hardly  remark 
that  the  position  of  Speaker  of  this  House, 
under  our  parliamentary  system  of  govern- 
ment, is  second  to  none;  is,  in  fact,  equal  to 
the  highest  in  the  gift  of  either  the  Crown  or 
tiie  people.  In  the  first  place,  the  Speaker 
oi  the  House  of  Commons  is  the  channel  of 
communication  between  the  House  and  the 
Crown;  he  is  the  mouthpiece  of  this  assem- 
bly; and,  in  the  olden  time,  in  the  earlier 
parts  of  the  history  of  the  motherland,  when 
the  relations  of  the  Crown  and  parliament 
were  not  as  clear  and  as  well  defined  as  they 
are  ;it  the  present  moment,  this  part  of  the 
duties  of  the  Speaker  was  of  paramount  im- 
portance. But  we  live  in  calmer  and  happier 
tlays,  and  the  duties  which  the  Speaker  per- 
forms in  this  line  are,  we  may  say,  onlj-  per- 
functory. But,  on  the  other  hand,  the  duties 
which  the  Speaker  has  to  perform  as  presid- 
ing officer  of  this  House  have  increased  im- 
portance. These  duties  require  special  qual- 
ifications which  it  is  not  always  easj-  to  find 
combined  in  the  same  person.  In  the  first 
place,  it  is  expected  of  him  who  fills  this 
chair  that  he  shall  be  of  a  mind  at  once  judic- 
ial and  fair,  that  both  sides  of  the  House  and 
all  parties  may  expect  at  his  hand  a  uniform 
and  fair  treatment.  It  is  expected  of  him  also 
that  he  shall  be  well  versed  in  parliamentary 
law.  I  have  to  submit  to  the  House  that  in 
our  judgment,  and  I  believe  in  the  judgment 
of  all,  Mr.  Robert  Franklin  Sutherland,  mem- 
ber for  the  north  riding  of  Essex,  is  well  qual- 
ified in  all  these  respects  to  fill  the  office  of 
Speaker.  The  members  of  the  present  House 
who  were  his  colleagues  in  the  last  parliament 
will  agree  with  us,  I  believe,  that  we  can 
fairly  trust  that  in  his  hands  the  good  tradi- 
tions of  the  House  of  Commons  as  they  have 
come  to  us  from  the  motherland,  as  we  en- 
deavour to  maintain  them  in  this  country, 
will  be  well  preserved.  I,  therefore,  beg  to 
move,  seconded  by  Sir  William  Mulock: 

That  Robert  Franklin  Sutherland,  Esquire, 
member  representing  the  electoral  district  of 
the  north  riding  of  the  County  of  Essex,  do 
take  the  Chair  of  this  House  as  Speaker. 


THE    SPEAKER    ELECTED 

ON  Wednesday,  January  iith,  the 
House  of  Commons  elected  as 
Speaker  the  Hon.  R.  F.  Sutherland, 
M.P.,  Windsor,  Ont,,  the  Clerk  pre- 
siding on  this  occasion.  The  speech 
of  Sir  Wilfrid  Laurier  is  worth  re- 
printing:* 


♦House    of    Commons     Debates,     Revised 
Edition,  p.  i. 


A    SENATOR'S   WRIT 

ON  Wednesday,  January  nth,  the 
Hon.  Raoul  Dandurand  took  his 
place  as  Speaker  of  the  Senate.  Im- 
mediately after  his  installation  four 
new  Senators  were  introduced.  These 
were  Rt.  Hon.  Sir  R.  J.  Cartwright, 
C.M.G.,  Ottawa;  Philippe  Auguste 
Choquette,  Quebec;  James  Hamilton 
Ross,  Regina;  and    Thomas    Osborne 


PEOPLE  AND  AFFAIRS 


477 


Davis,  Prince  Albert.  The  writ  by 
which  a  senator  is  summoned  is  an  in- 
teresting document,  and  is  as  follows: 

CANADA 

Minto. 
[L.S.] 
EDWARD  THE  SEVENTH,  by  the  Grace 
of  God,  of  the  United  King-dom  of  Great 
Britain  and  Ireland,  and  of  the  British 
Dominions  beyond  the  Seas,  Kinjf, 
Defender  of  the  Faith,  Emperor  of  India. 
To  our  Trusty  and  Well-Beloved  Councillor, 
The  Right  Honourable  Sir  Richard  John 
Cartwright,  G.C.M.G.,  of  the  City  of 
Ottawa,  in  Our  Province  of  Ontario,  in 
Our  Dominion  of  Canada. 

Greet  IN 
K.NOW  Yk,  that  as  well  for  the  especial 
trust  and  confidence  We  have  manifested  in 
you,  as  for  the  purposeof  obtaining  your  advice 
and  assistance  in  all  weighty  and  arduous 
affairs  which  may  the  State  and  Defence  oi 
our  Dominion  of  Canada  concern.  We  have 
thought  fit  to  summon  you  to  the  Senate  of 
Our  said  Dominion;  and  We  do  command  you, 
that  all  difficulties  and  excuses  whatsoever 
laying  aside,  you  be  and  appear  for  the  pur- 
poses aforesaid,  in  the  Senate  of  Our  said 
Dominion,  at  all  limes  whensoever  and 
wheresoever  Our  Parliament  may  be  in  Our 
said  Dominion  convoked  and  liolden;  and  this 
you  are  in  no  wise  to  omit. 

In  Testimo.ny  Whereof,  We  have 
caused  these  Our  Letters  to  be  made 
Patent,  and  the  Great  Seal  of  Canada 
to  be  hereunto  affixed.  WiT.NKSS,  Our 
Right  Trusty  and  Right  Well- Beloved 
Cousin  and  Councillor  The  Right  Hon- 
ourable Sir  Gilbert  John  Elliot.  Earl  of 
Minto  and  V'iscount  Melgund  of  Mel- 
^und.  County  of  Forfar,  in  the  Peerage 
of  the  United  Kingdom,  Baron  Minto 
of  Minto,  County  of  Roxburgh,  in  the 
Peerage  of  Great  Britain,  Baronet  of 
"Nova  Scotia,  Knight  Grand  Cross  of 
the  .Most  Distinguished  Order  of  Saint 
Michael  and  Saint  George,  &c.,  &c., 
Governor-General  of  Canada. 

.At  Our  Government  House,  in  Our 
City  of  Ottawa,  this  Thirteenth 
day  of  September,  in  the  Year 
of  Our  Lord  One  Thousand 
Nine  Himdred  and  Four,  and 
the  Fourth  Year  of  our  Reign. 
By  Command, 

R.  W.  Scott, 

Secretary  of  State. 


THE    NEW    PROVINCES 

THE  establishment  of  new  provinces 
in   the    Dominion    does   no  more 
than    emphasise    the    development    of 


HON.     R.    K.    SlTHERt.AND.     M.P. 
The  new  Speaker  of  the  Hou!>c  of  Communs 

that  part  of  Canada  which,  owing  to 
lack  of  knowledge  and  lines  of  com- 
munication, has  been  the  last  to  be 
opened  for  settlement.  It  seems 
strange,  however,  that  no  new  pro- 
vince should  be  necessary  since  1870, 
the  year  when  Manitoba  yvas  erected. 
Thirty-five  years  is  a  lon^  period  in 
the  life  of  a  country,  and  in  this  case  it 
brings  clearly  to  the  mind  how  slow 
the  progress  of  the  West  has  been. 
For  nearly  thirty  years  the  develop- 
ment was  far  from  being  as  spectacular 
as  it  has  been  in  the  last  five.  At 
times,  even  the  bravest  of  our  states- 
men must  have  been  discouraged.  At 
times  almost  the  whole  nation  relin- 
quished hope.  But  the  day  of  pessi- 
mism and  doubt  has  passed;  the  rich 
and  prosperous  West  contains  two 
new  provinces,  the  people  of  which 
will  be  greatly  encouraged  to  supreme 
effort;  and  Canada  is  now  a  Dominion 
with  nine  provinces  instead  of  seven. 
Welcome,  Saskatchewan  and  Alberta! 
John  A.    Cooper 


Mew  DO 


TIGP:R  TALBOT 

DISGUISE  it  as  the  historians  may, 
there  were  times  in  the  history 
of  the  now  loyal  Province  of  Ontario 
when  there  was  a  strong^  feeling-  to- 
wards republicanism  and  annexation 
to  the  United  States.  This  is  not  the 
time,  however,  lor  an  examination  of 
those  circums^nnces  and  an  impartial 
recounting-  of  the  causes  of  disaffec- 
tion. Later  on  the  people  will  be  bet- 
ter prepared  for  the  truth.  Vet  it  is 
the  present  time  which  the  fates  have 
chosen  to  throw  new  light  on  the  lives 
of  some  of  the  most  sturdy  champions 
of  British  connection.  The  life  of  Sir 
John  Beverley  Robinson  was  reviewed 
in  a  previous  issue;  that  of  Lieut. -Col. 
Thomas  Talbot  now  demands  atten- 
tion, because  of  Judge  ICrmatinger's 
volume.  "  The  Talbot  Regime."* 

The  Talbots  de  Malahide  were  one 
of  the  nine  great  houses  which  sur- 
vived the  Wars  of  the  Roses,  and  are 
now  said  to  be  the  only  family  in  the 
United  Kingdom  which  has  held  its 
ancestral  estate  in  the  direct  male 
lineag"e  for  seven  hundred  years.  Mal- 
ahide is  a  small  village  and  castle  on 
the  Iri«;h  sea,  nine  miles  north  of  Dub- 
lin. Here,  in  1771,  was  born  Thomas 
Talbot,  one  of  a  family  of  seven  sons 
and  five  daughters.  He  was  one  of 
the  younger  sons;  is  said  to  have  re- 
ceived a  commission  in  the  army  at 
eleven  years  of  age;  was  educated  at 
Manchester;  at  seventeen  was  aide  to 
the  Lord-Lieutenant  of  Ireland  and, 
two  years  later,  joined  his  regiment, 
the  24th,  at.  Quebec.  When  Governor 
Simcoe  made  his  first  visit  to  Upper 
Canada  in  1792,  Lieut.  Talbot  was  his 

•The  Talbot  Regime,  or  The  First  Half-Cen- 
tury of  the  Talbot  Settlement.  St.  Thomas: 
The  Municipal  World,  Ltd.,  cloth,  illiislraled, 
400  pp. 

478 


secretary,  and  he  was  present  at  the 
meeting  of  the  first  Parliament  at  Navy 
Hall,  Newark,  in  September,  1792.  It 
was  during  these  years  as  secretary 
that  he  conceived  a  liking-  for  the  prov- 
ince and  a  desire  to  help  in  the  up- 
building of  this  portion  of  His  Maj- 
esty's dominions. 

After  active  military  service  in  Eur- 
ope, from  1794  to  1 801,  he  returned  to 
Canada  to  found  a  pioneer's  estate. 
As  an  officer  of  the  army  he  was  en- 
titled to  1,200  acres  of  land,  but 
through  his  influence  with  Governor 
Simcoe  and  other  officials  in  England, 
he  secured  a  further  grant  of  5.000 
acres.  In  May,  1803,  he  secured  pos- 
session of  these  lands  and  began  his 
real  life-work  in  Canada. 

There  are  two  classes  of  pioneers. 
The  one  comprises  those  who  are  con- 
tent to  clear  a  small  farm,  stock  it, 
work  it.  and  help  their  children  to  do 
likewise;  the  members  of  the  other 
class  have  more  imagination,  and  de- 
sire to  open  up  tracts  of  country.  To 
the  former,  a  hundred  acres  or  a 
quarter- section  is  sufficient;  to  the  lat- 
ter, 5,000  or  10,000  acres  may  be  insuffi- 
cient. Talbot  was  by  ability,  tempera- 
ment, training  and  opportunity,  des- 
tined to  be  one  of  the  latter  class.  In 
fact,  for  many  years,  he  was  the  chief 
figure  in  the  domestic  events  of  south- 
western Ontario.  He  was  the  regis- 
trar of  the  district  by  appointment, 
and  governor  of  it  by  self-choice.  He 
was  in  command  of  the  militia  of  the 
London  district  when  the  War  of  1812 
commenced,  and  was  of  great  assist- 
ance to  Brock  in  his  swift  march 
against  General  Hull.  When  the  war 
ended,  the  Colonel  found  his  large 
farm  laid  waste  by  the  enemy,  his  grist 
and  saw  mills  burned  to  the  ground, 
all  his  effects  carried  off  or  destroyed. 


ABOUT  NEW  BOOKS 


479 


and  his  people  reduced  to  the  utmost 
distress  and  poverty.  He  set  to  work 
again  in  earnest  and  soon  restored  his 
thriving  colony,  made  the  Talbot  road 
famous,  and  continued  his  efforts  to 
extend  settlement. 

The  story  is  too  long  to  repeat  here. 
The  volume  will  repay  considerable 
study,  although  it  is  so  overloaded 
with  useless  details  and  ill-digested 
facts  that  it  can  never  be  a  very  popu- 
lar book.  The  chapter  of  anecdotes 
throws  more  light  upon  the  man's  real 
character  than  any  other.  He  was  a 
rough-and-ready  autocrat  living  in 
rough-and-ready  times.  That  he  was 
thoroughly  British,  and  helped  to  keep 
this  part  of  Canada  for  the  British 
crown,  is  beyond  peradventure. 


CATHEDRALS  OF  SOLTHER.V 
FRANCE* 

THE  Knglish  portion  of  the  popula- 
tion of  .America  has  taken  but 
little  interest  in  cathedrals  until  recent 
time*.  Trinity  Church,  Boston,  and 
the  Roman  Catholic  Cathedral  of  New 
York  are  almost  the  only  expressions 
of  such  an  interest.  As  the  author  of 
several  works  on  this  subject  says: 

'*  In  recent  times  the  An^lo-Saxon  has 
mostly  built  his  churches  on  what  he  is  >o 
pleaseii  to  think  are  'improved  lines'  that, 
more  than  anything  else,  resemble  in  their  in- 
teriors playhouses,  and  in  tlu-ir  exteriors  lot- 
ton  faitories  and  breweries." 

There  is  some  change  imminent  pos- 
sibly, as  more  interest  seems  to  be 
taken  in  all  forms  of  art.  Art  ex- 
pression must  find  its  outlet  some- 
where. In  France  it  has  found  it  in 
cathedrals,  and  the  time  may  come 
when  the  same  occurs  in  America. 

France,  to-day,  is  divided  into  sixty- 
severi  bishoprics  and  seventeen  arch- 
bishoprics, but  when  the  cathedrals 
were  being  built  the  sees  were  less 
numerous-.  The  great  era  of  cathed- 
ral  building   was  in    the    twelfth  cen- 

*By  Francis  Miltoun.  Flans  and  diagrams 
by  Blanche  .McManus.  Boston:  L.  C,  Page 
&  Co.  Cloth,  550  pages,  ninety  illustrations, 
$1.60.      Toronto:  The  Copp,  Clark  Co. 


tury,  partly  because  of  the  growing  art 
knowledge  of  the  people,  partly 
because  of  the  development  of  Gothic 
architecture,  and  partly  because  the 
archbishop  desired  a  church  which 
would  rival  in  appearance  and  import- 
ance the  fortress  of  his  competitor, 
the  feudal  baron.  The  introduction  of 
the  Gothic  arch  made  height  a  possi- 
bility. The  old  basilica,  with  an  aisle 
12  feet  wide  and  a  nave  24  feet  wide, 
would  give  a  roof- ridge  height  of  but 
40  feet.  The  Gothic  church,  with  a 
nave  of  this  same  width  would  give  a 
roof-ridge  height  of  82  feet.  Enlarge 
the  nave  to  50  feet  and  the  ridge  rises 
to  171  feet. 

There  are  hundreds  oi  splendid 
churches  in  the  South  of  France,  and 
some  wonderful  cathedrals.  Ste.  Cecile 
d'Albi,  which  was  begun  in  1282,  and 
was  more  than  a  hundred  years  in 
building,  combines  both  the  aspect  of 
a  fortress  and  a  church,  its  nave  is 
88  feet  wide,  and  the  body  is  built  of 
warm,  rosy-coloured  brick.  St.  Front 
de  Perigueux  is  "the  grandest  and 
most  notable  tenth-century  church  yet 
remaining  in  France,"  being  about  the 
size  of  St.  Mark's  of  N'enice,  and 
greatly  resembling  that  famous  edifice. 
It,  however,  was  rebuilt  in  the  twelfth 
century  and  restored  in  the  nineteenth. 
Notre  Dame  des  Doms  d'Avignon  is  a 
small,  but  pretty,  twelfth-century 
church,  less  imposing  than  the  later 
"palace"  which  marks  the  temporary 
residence  of  the  Popes  at  that  spot. 
St.  Pierre  de  Poitiers  and  St.  Pierre 
d'Angouleme  are  also  twelfth  century, 
but  show  more  trnces  of  the  Roman- 
esque style.  The  latter  "possesses 
the  finest  Lombard  detail  to  be  found 
outside  of  Italy."  Notre  Dame  Le 
Puy  is  of  the  same  period,  and  is  built 
on  what  is  said  to  be  the  most  pictur- 
esque spot  in  the  world.  It,  too,  is 
Romanesque. 

The  volume,  which  forms  the  basis  of 
these  remarks,  is  a  notable  production 
and  is  1  credit  to  its  author,  its  illus- 
trator and  its  publisher.  The  author, 
Francis  Miltoun,  is  also  responsible 
for  "The  Cathedrals  of  Northern 
France,"     "Dickens'     London"     and 


480 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


VIRNA   SHKARI) 

Author  of  '  By  the  Queen's  Grace,"  etc 

Pliolo.  by  Lyonde,  Toronto 

Other  works.  He  treats  his  subjects 
most  sympathetically,  though  the  ar- 
rangement of  his  material  at  times 
lacks  orderliness  and  cohesion. 


Americans;  and  at  the  same  time  they 
are  saving-  to  non-Catholic  taxpayers  a 
vast  sum,  estimated  from  $20,000,000 
to  $25,000,000  annually,  for  this  is 
what  it  would  cost  if  the  children  now 
being  educated  in  the  Catholic  paro- 
chial schools  had  to  be  provided  for  in 
the  public  schools." 

An  entirely  contrary  view  is  given 
by  Rev.  Father  Crowley  in  his  book 
"The  Parochial  School:  a  Curse  to  the 
Church  and  a  Menace  to  the  Nation." 
(Published  by  the  author,  Sherman 
House,  Chicago).  He  begins  by  say- 
ing "Catholic  priests  and  prelates  are 
determined  to  destroy  the  American 
public  school.  .  .  .  The  Catholic 
hierarchy  has  in  view  the  selfish  inter- 
ests of  its  priests  and  prelates  and  not 
the  true  welfare  of  the  church  or  state. 
I  shall  deal  in  this  book  with 
the  Catholic  parochial  school  as  it  is, 
and  I  shall  show  that  it  is  a  curse  to 
the  Roman  Catholic  Church,  and  that 
it  is  a  menace  to  the  nation." 

It  is  hard  at  this  distance  to  know 
where  the  truth  lies  as  between  the 
disputants,  but  that  there  is  a  dispute 
and  a  question  there  can  be  no  doubt. 


PAROCHIAL   SCHOOLS 

THOSE  who  are  interested  in  the 
present  discussion  of  separate 
schools  will  find  some  conflicting  testi- 
mony from  the  United  States.  Chapter 
xxi  of  the  Report  of  the  Commissioner 
of  Education  (Washington,  1904,  Gov- 
ernment Printing  Office)  deals  with  the 
subject  of  "  Parochial  Schools."  Rev. 
Father  Sheedy,  the  writer,  opens  by 
saying: 

"The  most  impressive  religious  fact 
in  the  United  States  to-day  is  the  sys- 
tem of  Catholic  free  parochial  schools. 
Not  less  than  a  million  children  are 
being  educated  in  these  schools.  This 
great  educational  work  is  carried  on 
without  any  financial  aid  from  the 
Slate.  The  parochial  schools  are 
maintained  by  the  voluntary  contribu- 
tions of  Catholics.  For  the  Christian 
education  of  their  children,  Catholics 
are  making  tremendous  sacrifices  that 
elicit    the    praise    of     all     thoughtful 


THE  SECRET   WOMAN* 

ONLY  those  with  brave  hearts  and 
with  an  optimism  which  nothing 
can  dismay  should  read  "The  Secret 
Woman,"  Eden  Phillpott's  latest  novel. 
The  bleak,  forbidding  moors  of  Devon- 
shire are  the  background  of  a  dark, 
weary  drama  of  love  and  sin.  Climate, 
atmosphere  and  topography  have  an 
eflFect  upon  the  human  mind,  and  ot 
this  Mr.  Phillpott  makes  the  most. 
The  harsh  conditions  of  life  among  the 
naval  people  of  Dartmoor — where  it 
will  be  remembered  was  the  famous 
prison — make  these  ignorant  persons 
hard  and  matter-of-fact.  Their  sen- 
timents are  of  the  crudest.  Their 
conduct  is  near  to  that  of  primeval 
man. 

There  is  an  attractiveness  in  the 
book  due  to  its  realism — the  realism  of 
Maupassant  and  Zola.     Jesse  Redvers 

•Toronto:  Morang  &  Co. 


ABOUT  NEW  BOOKS 


481 


DISRAELI    AS    A    VOING    MAN 
From  a  Painting  *y  Sir  Francis  Grant 


is  in  love  with  Salome,  daughter  of  a 
neighbouring  farmer,  but  is  unsuccess- 
ful in  his  suit.  To  add  to  his  misery, 
comes  a  domestic  tragedy.  His 
mother  discovers  that  the  father  is 
unfaithful  and  in  a  fit  of  anger  she 
strikes  him  as  he  leans  over  the  well. 
He  falls  in  and  is  killed  in  the  presence 
of  his  two  sons.  They  keep  the  se- 
cret and  give  no  evidence  against  the 
mother.  Eventually,  Salome  decides 
to  marry  Jesse,  and  this  draws  from 
him  the  story  of  his  father's  death. 
Salome,  the  secret  woman,  who  had 
loved  his  father,  is  thus  placed  in  a 
position  to  avenge  her  lover's  death, 
which  she  does.    1 1  is  a  powerful  drama. 


DISR.AKI.i   AS  A   FOET 

It  may  not  be  generally  known  that 
Disraeli'  was  a  poet.  M  the  age  of 
nine-and-twenty  he  wrote  a  long  poem 
called  "The  Revolutionary  Epick,"  of 
which  a  new  edition  has  just  appeared 
in  England.  The  criticism  of  the  time 
declared  that  it  was  not  poetry  but 
rhetoric.  Yet,  to  the  curious  it  is  in- 
teresting, because  in  many  passages  it 
indicates  the  idea  of  the  man  at  that 
period.      For  example: 

— Then  let  us  learn 
That  little  virtue  lies  in  forms  of  rule; 
But  in  the  minds  and  manners  of  those  ruled 
Subsists  the  fate  of  nations. 


482 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


And 


again; 


A  holy  office  mine  and  noble  aim  ; 

To  teach  the  monarchs  and  to  multitudes 

Their  duties  and  their  ritjhts. 


NOTES 

It  will  be  a  hundred  years  next  May 
since  the  poet  Schiller  passed  away. 

One  of  the  greatest  book  needs  in 
Canada  is  a  two  or  three  volume 
history  of  the  country.  It  should  be 
written,  not  by  a  collector  of  facts 
such  as  Sir  John  Bourinot  was,  but  by 
some  man  who  is  able  to  present  the 
material  in  proper  perspective  and  en- 
able people  to  see  the  underlying  prin- 
ciples upon  which  Canadian  civilisation 
has  been  built.  There  are  several  ex- 
cellent single  volumes,  but  there  is  no 
complete  history  written  in  the  stvle 
of  Green's  *'  Short  History  of  the 
English  People,"  and  in  a  correspond- 
ing compass.  Kingsford  is  too  bulky 
for  the  average  reader. 

It  may  interest  Canadian  poets  and 
admirers  of  poetry  in  general  to  recall 
that  Thomas  Moore  received  ^^,000 
for  the  copyright  of  "  Lalla  Rookh." 
Moore  did  not,  however,  think  that  the 
popularity  of  this  poem  would  be  last- 
ing. He  is  said  to  have  remarked  to 
Longfellow  that  "  in  a  race  to  future 
times  (if  anything  of  mine  could  pre- 
tend to  such  a  run),  those  little  ponies, 
the  •  Melodies,'  will  beat  the  mare 
*  Lalla  '  hollow."  Moore  died  in  1852. 
Stephen  Gwynn  has  just  written  his 
biography  for  the  English  Men  of  Let- 
ters Series. 

Writers  who  tell  the  truth  and  are 
not  always  anxious  to  be  in  the  swim, 
occasionally  get  into  trouble.  James 
S.  Metcalfe,  of  New  York  Life,  has 
been  speaking  frankly  of  the  New- 
York  Theatrical  Trust  for  some  years, 
and  has  now  been  denied  admittance 
to  the  47  theatres  in  New  York  which 
the  Trust  controls.  The  fulsome  flat- 
tery of  the  Trust's  plays  to  be  found 
in  Canadian  dailies  will  never  cause 
the  writers  to  be  excluded  from  the 
Trust's  theatres  in  Toronto  and  Mon- 
treal, but  it  is  disgusting  nevertheless. 


"The  Summit  House  Mystery"  is 
the  title  of  the  latest  story  by  Lily 
Dougall,  author  of  "The  Zeit-Geist," 
"  Beggars  All,"  etc.  Miss  Dougall  is 
a  daughter  of  the  late  John  Dougall, 
of  the  Montreal  Witness.  She  was 
born  in  Montreal  in  1858.  Her  first 
book,  "Beggars  All,"  was  not  pub- 
lished until  1891,  She  was  educated 
at  Edinburgh  University  and  has  lived 
much  abroad,  but  lately  has  spent  part 
of  each  year  in  Montreal.  The  British 
journals  speak  highly  of  this  new  work, 
but  Miss  Dougall  has  never  secured  a 
Canadian  publisher  for  her  works. 
The  United  States  market  is  taken  by 
Funk  &  Wagnalls. 

Hodder  iK:  Stoughton  are  bringing- 
out  in  Great  Britain  a  series  of  Liter- 
ary Lives,  edited  by  W.  Robertson 
Nicoll.  Three  volumes  are  already 
issued:  John  Bunyan,  Matthew  Arnold 
and  Cardinal  Newman, 

Chatto  &  VVindus  now  cffer  a 
complete  edition  of  Swinburne's  poeti- 
cal works  in  six  volumes,  at  36  shil- 
lings per  set. 

Among  the  recent  issues  in  London 
are  "The  Secrtt  Woman,"  by  Eden 
Phillpotts  (Methuen);  "Life  of  Wins- 
ton Churchill,"  by  A.  M.  Scott  (Me- 
thuen); "The  Valley  of  the  Shadow," 
by  William  Le  Queux  (Methuen);  "The 
Year's  Art "  (Hutchinson);  "Uganda 
and  Its  Peoples,"  by  J.  F.  Cunning- 
ham (Hutchinson);  "Unveiling  of 
Lhasa,"  by  E.  Candler  (Edward  Ar- 
nold), and  "The  Road  to  Tuscany," 
by  Maurice  Hewlett. 

The  three  hundredth  anniversary  ot 
the  publication  of  the  first  part  of 
"Don  Quixote  "  was  celebrated  by  two 
dinners  in  London — ^one  of  a  public 
nature,  the  other  at  the  Whitefriars 
Club. 

"  Sandy,"  a  new  long  novel  by  Alice 
Hegan  Rice,  the  author  of  "Mrs. 
Wiggs,"  is  announced  for  early  publi- 
cation in  the  forthcoming  season.  It 
tells  the  story  of  an  Irish  boy  who 
goes  as  a  stowaway  to  America,  and 
then  lives  with  one  of  the  old  families 
in  Kentucky. 


omencs. 


t 


BYGONES 

*'  Now  tell  me,  my  laddie,  just  why 
Your  history  lessons  you  try 
To  avoid — don't  you  see 
They  will  help  you  to  bo 
A  verj'  wise  man  by-and-by  ?" 

*'  But  you  told  us,  sir,  not  long-ago. 
To  always  obey  you,  and  so 
I  thoug^ht  I  just  would 
When  you  said  that  we  should 
'  Let  bvtfones  be  byjfones,'  you  know." 

.\fargaret  Clark.  RttsselL 


A  QUESTION  0¥  ACc  KNT 

FRANCIS  WILSON  says  that  Maur- 
ice Barrymore  once  made  the 
rounds  of  the  offices  of  the  theatrical 
managers  in  London,  trying  to  get  them 
to  put  on  a  new  play  that  Barrymore  him- 
self had  written.  One  ot  the  managers 
to  whom  Barrymore  had  read  the  play 
seemed  much  impressed.  Before  their 
interview  had  ended  it  had  been  decid- 
ed to  give  the  piece  an  early  produc- 
tion and  to  have  Barrymore  "do"  the 
leading  role.  About  a  week  after  what 
Barrymore  had  supposed  was  the  defi- 
nitely agreed-upon  arrangement  had 
been  reached,  the  actor  received  a  note 
from  the  manager  asking  him  to  call. 
When  Barrymore  responded  to  the 
summons  the  manager  said: 

"  I  like  the  play,  old  fellow,  and  I'm 
going  to  give  it  a  fine  production;  but, 
really,  I  don't  see  how  I  can  use  you 
in  the  cast.  Vour  beastly  .American 
accent  won't  do  at  all,  you  know. 
They  don't  like  it  here." 

"That's  odd,''  said  Barrymore;  "they 
tell  me  on  the  other  side  that  I  won't 
do  on  account  of  my  beastly  English 
accent.  *  What  on  earth  am  I  to  do — 
give  recitations  on  the  transatlantic 
steamers?" — Ilarpers   Weekly. 

48J 


H.WE  EXCUSE  FOR  BLUSHING 

'*  I  wish  they'd  invent  a  new  expres- 
sion occasionally,"  said  Top,  as  he 
perused  the  account  of  a  recent  wed- 
ding. •'  It's  always  '  the  blushing 
bride.'  " 

"Well,"  replied  Mrs.  Top,  "when 
you  consider  what  sort  of  husbands 
most  girls  have  to  marry  you  can't 
wonder  at  their  blushing." — Tit- Bits. 


A  PRIMER  01     1.1  IKRATURE 

What  is  the  Literature  of  to-daj? 

Fiction. 

How  is  Fiction  divided? 

Into  Historical  Novels  and  Nature 
Books. 

What  is  a  Historical  Novel? 

One  that  shows  no  trace  of  Hi^tory 
or  of  Novelty. 

What  is  a  Nature  Book? 

.-\  volume  of  misinformation  about 
animals. 

Why  are  Nature  Books  popular  just 
now? 

Because  they  are  the  fashion. 

.Mention  some  recent  Nature  Hooks. 

"  The  Lions  oi  the  Lord,"  "  Pigs  in 
Clover."  "The  Octopus,"  "The  Blue 
Goose,"  and  "The  Sea  Wolf." 

What  are  the  best  selling  books? 

Those  which  sell  the  best  people. 

What  is  a  .Magazine? 

A  small  body  of  Literature  entirely 
surrounded  by  advertisements. 

Why  is  a  comic  paper  so  called? 

Because  it's  so  funny  that  anybody 
buys  it. 

VVhat  is  a  critic? 

A  Critic  is  a  man  who  writes  about 
the  books  he  doesn't  like. 

What  is  Poetry? 

Lines  of  words  ending  with  the  same 
sound. 


484 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


UNNECESSARY    Ol KSTION 

Entiusi^siu    Motorist — "  Wt-ll.  how  do  von  like  it?' 


-Punch 


What  is  a  Minor  Poet? 

A  poet  not  yet  twenty-one  years  of 
age. 

What  is  a  Major  Poet? 

There  isn't  any. 

What  is  a  Publisher? 

A  man  who  is  blamed  if  a  book 
doesn't  sell,  and  ignored  if  it  does. 

What  does  a  publisher  mean  by 
Problem  Novels? 

All,  except  Kipling's  and  Mrs.  Hum- 
phry Ward's. 

What  makes  a  book  a  phenomenal 
success? 

Much  bad,  much  pad,  and  much  ad. 
— Carolyn  Wells  in  The  Metropolitan 
Magazine. 

■ 

PAUL  REDVIVIUS 

Paul  du  Chaillu,  the  one-time  Afri- 
can explorer,  performed  a  Good  Sa- 
maritan act  one  night  in  assisting  along 
the  street  a  very  intoxicated  stranger. 
The  man  told  him  where  his  home 
was,  and   after   considerable   difficulty 


Du  Chaillu  got  him  to  his  door.  The 
bibulous  one  was  very  grateful,  and 
wanted  to  know  his  helper's  name. 
As  the  explorer  did  not  particularly 
care  to  give  his  name  in  full,  he  merely 
replied  that  it  was  Paul.  "  So  it'sh — 
hie — Paul,  ish  it?"  hiccoughed  the 
man,  and  then,  after  some  moments  of 
apparent  thought,  inquired,  solicitous- 
ly: "Shay,  ol'  man,  did  y'ever  get 
any — hie — any  ansher  to  those  lo-ong 
lettersh  y'  wrote  to  th'  Ephesians?" — 
A  rgonaut. 


RATHER  POINTED 

The  young  man  who  had  travelled 
began:  "And  there  I  stood,  the  abyss 
yawning  at  my  feet." 

"  Was  it  yawning  before  you  got 
there,  or  did  it  begin  afteryou  arrived?" 
asked  the  young  woman  who  had 
never  been  away.  And  then  the  young 
man  found  he  had  just  time  to  catch 
the  last  car. 


dODDDO 


THE  LARGEST  PHOTOGRAPH  IN  THE 
WORLD 

TH  E  largest  specimens  of  any  variety 
of  grown  or  manufactured  product 
always  has  a  special  interest.  To  pho- 
tographers and  others,  an  account  of 
the  making  of  the  largest  photograph 
in  the  world  must  be  exceptionally  in- 
teresting. As  is  usual  in  such  work,  a 
number  of  sectional  pictures  are  taken 
and  then  enlarged.  These  enlarge- 
ments were  printed  consecutively  on  a 
large  sheet  of  paper.  The  detail  de- 
scription, as  furnished  by  Emile  Guar- 
ino,  is  as  follows: 

This  gigantic  picture  taken  by  the 
*'  Neue  Photographische  Gesellschaft," 
Berlin-Steglitz,   measures   38  ft.  8  in. 


by  4  ft.  I  I  in.,  and  represents  the  Bay  of 
Naples  seen  from  Castel  San  Marino, 
the  highest  point  behind  Naples  from 
which  the  eye  commands  the  whole 
city  and  bay  as  far  as  Mount  Vesuvius 
and  Capri.  Six  different  views  on  as 
many  plates  were  first  taken;  they 
measured  8  ft.  i  in.  x  10  ft.  5  in. 
From  these  six  plates,  which  were  de- 
signed with  a  view  to  being  connected 
with  one  another  in  a  continuous  ser- 
ies, six  enlargements  4  ft.  1 1  in.  x  6  ft. 
7  in.  in  size  were  prepared  by  means 
of  an  apparatus  with  a  lens  i  foot  in 
diameter.  The  enlargements  were 
made  directly  in  silver  bromide  paper. 
In  order  to  develop  the  picture,  a  huge 
wheel  was  made  of  specially  prepared 


HOW   THE   LARGEST   PHOTOGRAPH    IN   THE   WORLD  WAS   DEVELOPED 
The  wheel  built  for  the  poroose  had  a  periphery  of  fortr-one  feet 

485 


486 


THE  CAXADIAN  MAGAZIXK 


RETOLCHINt;    THE    FINISHED    PHOTOGRAPH 


wood.  The  wheel  was  15.12  ft.  in 
diameter  and  5.5  ft.  in  breadth,  the 
periphery  being  41  ft.  and  containing 
90  slats.  There  were  further  used 
three  large  tanks  about  70'{.  cubic  feet 
in  capacity,  intended  respectively  for 
the  developing,  clearing  and  fixing 
solutions.  A  gigantic  water  tank  49  2 
ft.  in  length,  6.56  ft.  in  breadth,  and 
2.46  ft.  in  height,  having  a  total  capa- 
city as  high  as  476  68  cubic  ft.,  was 
.  further  used. 

On  account  of  the  large  developing 
wheel  employed,  the  paper  was  devel- 
oped by  night  in  the  open  air.  The 
total    consumption    of    water    used  in 


washing  the  print  was  about  10,593 
cubic  feet. 

After  the  water  was  drawn  off,  the 
picture  was  stretched  out  on  wooden 
bars  attached  to  the  upper  edge  of  the 
tank,  where  it  remained  for  about  ten 
hours  before  it  was  completely  dried. 

Each  tank  could  be  shifted  about  on 
five  iron  wheels  moving  along  rails 
52.48  ft.  in  length. 


PROBLEM 

A    new   problem    will    be    found    on 
page  488. 


THE    LARGEST    PHOTOGRAPH    IN    THE    WORLD 


OPTIMISM 

X  an  address  to  the  Cana- 
dian Club  of  Ottawa,  Mr. 
Byron  E.  Walker,  General 
Manager  of  the  Canadian 
Bank  of  Commerce, 
-declared  that  he  was  an  optimist;  that 
no  business-man  who  is  a  pessimist  can 
hope  to  succeed;  that  the  wise  optim- 
ist expects  trouble,  but  looks  upon  all 
trouble  as  mere  detail.  There  is  food 
for  reflection  here.  The  optimist  not 
only  takes  advantage  of  all  progress, 
but  he  creates  progress.  If  a  nation 
consists  of  citizens  who  are  not  confi- 
dent that  a  successful  future  lies  before 
that  nation,  there  can  be  little  advance. 
Confidence  begets  confidence,  and  also 
begets  success.  A  country  is  exactly 
what  its  citizens  make  it.  All  coun- 
tries are  pretty  much  the  same;  the 
varying  degrees  of  progress  are,  as  a 
general  rule,  the  result  of  the  various 
degrees  of  optimism  which  permeate 
the  people  as  a  whole.  No  nation  of 
croakers  can  ever  become  great. 

The  same  is  true  of  business.  .All 
business  progress  is  founded  on  optim- 
ism and  common-sense — the  one  act- 
ing and  reacting  on  the  other.  If  all 
the  business-men  of  a  country  decide 
that  trade  is  likely  to  be  bad  next  year, 
it  will  stagnate. 

There  never  was  a  time  in  the  his- 
tory of  Canada  when  there  was  a 
greater  reason  for  optimism,  nor 
greater  need  for  it.  The  development 
of  the  last  few  years  has  been  magnifi- 
cent; the  development  of  the  next  few 
years  depends  on  our  having  confi- 
dence. The  country  is  rich,  immigra- 
tion is  proceeding  apace,  the  Govern- 
ment is  doing  its  duty,  and  the  rest  lies 
Vfhh  the  people — the    capitalists,  the 

487 


bankers,  the  business-men,  and  the 
other  classes.  Mr.  Walker's  state- 
ment that  optimism  is  the  key  to  suc- 
cess, is  worth  remembering. 


AGAINST   RECIPROCITY 

THE  treatment  accorded  by  the 
U.S.  Senate  to  the  Newfound- 
land reciprocity  treaty  indicates  that 
there  is  little  chance  of  a  meeting  of 
the  Quebec- Washington  conference 
bringing  about  any  arrangement  likely 
to  make  easier  the  trade  movement  be- 
tween the  United  States  and  Canada. 
The  fishing  interests,  centering  at 
Gloucester,  were  able  to  persuade 
the  Senate  to  strike  salt  fish 
from  the  list  of  Newfoundland  pro- 
ducts to  be  admitted  free  into  the 
United  States.  These  same  interests 
would  be  more  strongly  opposed  to  the 
free  admission  of  Canadian  fish.  Then, 
if  the  statements  of  the  New  York 
Tribune's  Washington  correspondent 
are  well  founded,  the  U.S.  iron  ore, 
coal  and  slate  producers  were  opposed 
to  clauses  in  the  Newfoundland  treaty 
calculated  to  effect  their  business,  and 
they,  too,  were  stricken  out.  The 
U.S.  interests  in  question  would  have 
far  more  competition  to  expect  from 
the  free  admission  of  Canadian  ores 
and  coal  than  Newfoundland  under 
any  probable  circumstances  could  offer. 
It  seems  also,  from  the  Tribune's  re- 
port, that  some  of  the  senators  were 
fixed  in  their  views  from  a  fear  that  the 
ratification  of  the  Newfoundland  treaty 
would  prove  an  entering  wedge  which 
would  make  it  easier  for  friends  of  rec- 
iprocity with  Canada  to  secure  a 
treaty.  Both  the  rejection  of  the  New- 
foundland treatv — for  its    amendment 


488 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


was  practically  a  rejection — and  the 
arguments  on  which  the  action  was 
based,  are  indications  that  a  reciproc- 
ity treaty  with  Canada,  if  it  could  be 
negotiated,  would  fail  of  ratification  by 
the  U.S.  Senate,  which  is  using  its 
constitutional  powers  in  regard  to 
treaties  in  a  manner  to  humiliate  Pres- 
ident Roosevelt  and  to  make  the  repre- 
sentatives of  other  nations  chary  in 
agreeing  to  any  convention  with  the 
United  States  that  the  Senate  may 
have  to  do  with. — Montreal  Gazette. 

THK    I'ATRIOTIC    CRY 

AS  far  as  possible  Canadians  should 
give  a  preference  to  the  works  of 
Canadian  authors.  At  the  same  time 
Canadian  authors  should  never  count 
on  the  support  of  Canadian  readers 
simply  because  they  are  Canadians. 
Many  a  novel,  many  a  volume  of 
poetry,  many  a  work  of  history  and 
biography  and  many  a  periodical,  mis- 
erably mediocre  in  character,  has  been 
foisted  on  the  Canadian  public  and  its 
sale  urged  on  the  ground  that  it  rep- 
resents struggling  Canadian  literature. 
Better  have  no  Canadian  literature  at 
all  than  that  it  should  have  to  be  judged 
by  such  a  standard.  Fortunately  for 
our  national  reputation,  we  have  some 
authors  who  can  hold  their  own  in  the 
international  arena  and  to  whom  we 
can  point  with  pride  as  exponents  of 
Canadian  ideals  and  standards.  We 
are  to-day  producing  histories  and 
biographies  of  real  merit.  Our  novel- 
ists are  winning  world-wide  fame.  It 
is  to  be  regretted  that  certain  writers 
should  be  advancing  unworthy  claims 
for  recognition.  The  patriotic  cry  has 
its  limit. — Bookseller  and  Stationer 
( Toronto. ) 

GENERAL  NOGI 
Nogi  has  been  a  devoted  family  man 
all  his  life,  but  puts  the  ties  of  country 
before  the  ties  of  family.  Before  the 
war  with  Russia  broke  out  he  had 
two  fine  sons.  When  hostilities  com- 
menced he  and  his  eldest  son  were  one 
day  talking  about  the  likelihood  of 
their  going  to  the  front,  when  the 
younger  son  came  up  to  them  and  ex- 


claimed that  if  they  were  going  to  the 
war  he  wanted  to  go  too. 

"  Excellent!"  replied  the  father;  "it 
shall  be  a  race  in  patriotism  between 
us." 

There  has  been  a  sequel  to  this  in- 
cident which  is  very  sad,  and  in  which 
Nogi  glories.  The  elder  boy  became 
a  lieutenant  in  the  First  Division,  and 
his  father  was  just  setting  out  from 
Japan  for  the  attack  upon  Port  Arthur, 
when  the  news  of  his  death  reached 
him.  He  had  been  killed  in  the  battle 
at  Nanshan.  The  sorrow-stricken 
mother  was  about  to  prepare  for  the 
funeral  service  when  Nogi  turned  to 
her  and  asked  her  to  hold  it  back. 

'*  I  say  this,"  he  said,  "because  I 
and  my  other  son  have  resolved  to  give 
our  lives  for  the  Emperor  if  necessary, 
and  if  we  all  die  one  funeral  will  serve 
for  us  instead  of  three!" 

Only  a  few  days  before  the  fall  of 
Port  Arthur  the  second  son  was  killed 
at  the  capture  of  203-Metre  Hill,  and 
now  only  Nogi,  the  father,  remains. 
It  is  said  that  the  Japanese  were  so 
impatient  for  the  fall  of  Port  Arthur 
that  they  would  not  have  tolerated  the 
delay  in  any  other  general  than  Nogi, 
being  to  a  man  assured  that  he  would 
do  all  that  was  humanly  possible. — 
Selected. 

ANOTHER    PROBLEM 

TN  response  to  a  request  for  further 
*•  curious  problems,  a  subscriber 
sends  this: 

In  the  following  sum  in  long  division 
all  the  figures  have  become  obliterated 
except  four.  Complete  the  sum  by 
supplying  the  missing  figures,  and  ex- 
plain in  simplest  form  how  they  are 
obtained. 

X2X)    xxxxxx    (x6x 
X  X  2 


X  X  X   X 
X  X  X  X 


X  7  X 

XXX 


Those  interested  are  requested  to 
send  in  solutions.  The  best  will  be 
published  next  month. 


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THE 


CANADIAN  Magazine 


VOL.   XXIV 


TORONTO,    APRIL.    1905 


No.  6 


THE  SISTINE  CHAPEL 


By  KATHERINE  HALE 


N  art,  in  literature,  in  life, 
we  hear  to-day  the  call  of 
Nature,  the  old  call  which 
came  to  the  Greeks  in 
those  early  sun- washed 
days  when  strength  of  limb  seemed 
necessary  to  strength  of  art;  which 
came,  in  the  middle  ages,  to  Italy,  and 
awakened  the  greatest  Renaissance 
the  world  has  ever  known;  which 
comes  to  us  to-day  and  says  "The 
body  is  the  tabernacle  of  the  soul;  cul- 
tivate its  joy  and  purity  and  power  if 
you  would  cherish  the  life  of  the  soul." 
Now  this  deification  of  the  body  is 
a  spiritual  movement,  one  which  has 
grown  slowly — as  all  great  movements 
of  thought  or  action  do.  In  looking 
back  over  centuries  of  art,  we  find 
ourselves  most  deeply  indebted  to  one 
who  of  all  the  world's  great  artists 
best  loved  the  human  form  divine,  and 
who  expressed  this  feeling  in  an  art  so 
exalted  and  so  pure,  that  he  seemed 
to  have  made  anew  the  great  discovery 
that  *'  the  body  of  man  is  a  miracle  of 
beauty,  each  limb  a  divine  wonder, 
each  muscle  a  joy  as  great  as  sight  of 
stars  or  flowers."  This  man  was  Michel- 
angelo, whose  deathless  marbles  are 
among  the  great  things  of  this  world 
of  ours,  and  whose  whole  gospel  and 
ideals  are  set  forth  more  convincingly 
than  anywhere  else  at  the  Sistine 
Chapel  in  Rome  where,  deserting 
marble  for  the  once,  he  painted  fres- 
cos of  such  extraordinary  strength  and 
beauty  that  they  are  to-day  the  great- 


est frescos  in  the  world,  whatever  the 
future  may  have  in  store  for  us. 

To  realise  the  significance  of  the 
Michelangelo  of  the  Sistine  Chapel  at 
Rome,  however,  it  is  necessary  to 
have  known  something  of  the  younger 
Michelangelo  in  Florence,  and  to  have 
observed  his  intermediate  development 
in  the  study-life  at  old,  art-haunted 
Bologna. 

We  crossed  the  blazing  square  in 
front  of  St.  Peter's  one  morning  last 
spring  to  enter  by  the  bronze  gate  into 
the  long  corridor  that  flanks  the  Ba- 
silica on  the  right  and  makes  entrance 
to  the  immediate  posessions  of  the 
Pope.  And  as  we  stood  in  that  won- 
derful area  with  its  obelisk,  its  foun- 
tains, its  colonnades  on  either  side, 
like  long  arms  stretched  out  to  gather 
all  the  world,  we  looked  back  at  Rome 
shining  in  the  distance.  We  thought 
of  this  work  of  Michelangelo  enclosed 
here  at  the  heart  of  the  Eternal  City 
as  its  immediate  jewel,  and  then  of 
little,  sleepy,  sunlit  Settignana  where  he 
had  played  among  the  marble  quarries 
as  a  child;  of  grim  and  cloudy  Bologna, 
the  scene  of  strenuous  apprentice  years; 
of  the  dear  Florence  of  his  early  and 
later  youth  where  still  in  the  soft,  sweet 
nights,  along  the  streets  of  moonlit 
ancient  palaces,  one  seems  to  catch 
the  carnivalic  note  of  those  Mediccian 
revels;  and  still  in  the  noonday's 
shadowed  aisles  the  awful  voice  of 
Savonarola  rings  out  through  the  old 


492 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZJNR 


DECORATIVE    FIGURE—  MICHELANGELO 
SISTINE    CHAPEL 


Duomo  as  clearly  to-day  as  in  those 
old  days  when  he  became  the  soul's 
awakener  of  Italy  and  of  Michelangelo. 
To  reach  the  Sistine  Chapel  one 
enters  by  the  Portone  di  bronzo,  passes 
the  Swiss  guards  still  wearing  the  very 
habits  designed  by  the  painter,  and  on 
up  the  splendid  prefacing  flight  of  the 
Scalo  Regia  to  the  Chapel  of  the  Popes. 
Here  one  knocks  in  humble  and  sup- 
plicating fashion  ere  the  door — a 
strangely  little  door — of  the  Sistine  is 


opened.  Then  a  key  is  turned  from 
the  inside,  and  in  a  moment  one  is 
within  a  faded,  dingy  room,  long,  nar- 
row and  poorly  lighted;  the  very  an- 
tithesis of  everything  that  fancy  had 
pictured.  The  sound  of  hammers, 
busy  this  morning  over  some  trivial 
repairs,  assailed  the  sense  of  rever- 
ence; while  on  rude  benches  scattered 
about  on  the  darkening,  inlaid  floor 
sat  or  lay  flat  on  their  backs,  as  require- 
ment   suggested    for    better   vision,   a 


THE  SISTINE   CHAPEL 


493 


DECORATIVE   FIGURE — MICHELANGELO 
SISTINE  CHAPEL 


meagre  congregation  of  tourists  and 
artists  all  gazing  upward  through 
opera  glasses,  or  with  the  aid  of  hand 
mirrors  for  reflection,  at  the  ceiling  of 
Michelangelo. 

This,  at  last,  the  Sistine  chapel! 
The  spot  most  sacred  to  art  in  all  the 
world,  where  the  greatest  genius  of 
form  that  has  ever  lived  closed  himself 
up  for  four  years  with  his  art,  and 
painted  upon  the  ceiling  of  this  room 
not  only  the  finest  pictorial  conception 


of  the  creation  of  the  world  and  its 
redemption  that  has  ever  been  accom- 
plished, but  with  this — and  strangely 
intermingled — the  whole  spirit  and 
purpose  of  the  Renaissance  in  Italy. 

This  faded,  shabby  spot! 

Nothing  but  the  dreary  weight  of 
the  hand  of  Time  was  upon  us  at  first; 
nothing  but  a  sense  of  personal  sorrow 
in  the  decaying  tones  of  dying  tapes- 
tries of  fresco  to  left  and  right — those 
once  glowing  conceptions  of  Botticelli, 


494 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


DECORATIVE    FIGURE — MICHELANGELO 
SISTINE  CHAPEL 


and  Signorelli,  and  Ghirlandajo,  with 
which  the  side  walls  are  covered. 
The  great  cracked  ceiling  overhead 
that  appears  to  be  lower  at  first  than 
it  is  by  actual  measurement,  but  as  you 
look  seems  to  recede  almost  impercep- 
tibly. 

Then,  taking  the  first  empty  bench, 
we  seated  ourselves,  strained  back- 
ward, and  began  to  search  among  the 
chaos  of  form  and  colour. 

I  shall  never  forget  the  sharp  sensa- 


tion, to  which  every  nerve  responded, 
when  the  first  figure  from  out  that 
chaos  came  forth  to  meet  me.  Gazing 
straight  upwards  towards  the  centre  of 
the  ceiling  I  had  happened  upon  the 
greatest  of  all,  the  central  theme  of  the 
whole  composition,  and  was  looking 
upon  Michelangelo's  figure  of  God. 
Out  of  the  distance  and  the  obscurity 
it  came  like  some  great  Awakener, 
full  of  such  strength,  such  untold 
vitality,  yet  such  repose,  that  the  fires 


THE  SISTINE  CHAPEL 


495 


DECORATIVE   FIGURE — MICHELANGELO 


of  all  the  worlds,  the  serenity  of  all  the 
ages,  seemed  embodied  in  the  sweep 
of  that  heroic  and  benignant  form. 
The  Creator  of  all  things,  the  Father, 
old  with  the  wealth  of  eons  that  we  do 
not  know  and  holding  in  the  secret  of 
his  arm  the  dower  of  the  new  creation, 
the  woman  and  the  child,  stretches 
out  his  right  arm  and  touches  Adam, 
the  first  man,  lying  on  a  rocky  hill-side, 
formed  and  perfect,  and  waiting  for  the 
gift  of  life.      Studying  this  group  until 


the  vast  conception  grows  upon  one  in 
all  its  majesty,  the  whole  imagination 
seems  to  be  caught  upwards  by  that 
mighty  sweep  of  impulse,  of  gesture, 
of  form,  of  Intention,  which  has  been 
so  mightily  communicated  to  the 
painter  that  the  everlasting,  brooding, 
compelling  God-thought  of  the  uni- 
verse is  actually  incorporate  in  the 
figure  on  which  we  gaze  and  gaze.  We 
lose  all  thought  of  time,  or  any  sense 
but    this  of  satisfied  longing — at  last 


496 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


THE  PROPHET  JEREMIAH— MICHELANGELO 

SISTINE    CHAPEL 


the  utter  and  complete  satisfaction  of 
all  longing  for  one  vision  of  the  Perfect 
Thought  incorporate  in  the  Perfect 
Form. 

All  else  in  that  morning  was  but  the 
realisation  of  this  the  first  knowledge 
of  a  new  power  and  strength.  Oiher 
forms,  the  crowding  forms  of  that 
marvellous  ceiling,  glowed  slowly  for 
us  from  out  the  faded  distance  and 
overpowered  us  by  their  tremendous 
significance    and    beauty;    yet,   to   the 


end  of  time,  that  first  recognition  of 
the  Creating  God  will  be  for  me  the 
real  and  greatest  Michelangelo. 

When  the  artist  was  summoned  by 
Pope  Julius  II  to  decorate,  according 
to  his  own  ideas,  the  ceiling  of  the  Sis- 
tine  Chapel,  he  approached  the  task 
unwillingly,  for  while  colour  and  brush 
meant  much  to  him,  the  chisel  and  the 
marble  shaft  meant  more.  And  then,  if 
we  know  anything  of  the  man  himself, 


THE  SISTINE  CHAPEL 


497 


t 


{ 


ki^ 


RZEKIEL — MICHELANGELO 
SBTINB  CBAPBt. 


we  must  believe  that  he  could  not 
undertake  the  decoration  of  these 
walls — then  the  centre  of  the  religious 
life  of  the  day — without  feelings  that  he 
must  throw  all  of  himself  into  the 
message  to  be  delivered;  and  the  all  of 
Michelangelo  was  very  great. 

His  life  has  been  full  of  no  less 
storm  and  stress  than  that  through 
which  his  country  had  passed.  He  had 
lived  to  the  full  every  emotion  of  a 
period  when  the  old  Greek    ideals   of 


freedom  and  beauty  in  art  were 
struggling  with  a  dying  Romanticism, 
and  when  against  the  voluptuous  Flor- 
entine culture  had  arisen  the  cry  o{  the 
spirit  which  Savonarola  sent  echoing 
through  all  Italy,  arousing  such  terror, 
and  alarm,  and  sobbing  cries,  that  men 
"passed  through  the  streets  breathless, 
more  dead  than  alive."  And  Michel- 
angelo, whose  youth  and  early  man- 
hood were  largely  spent  an  inmate  of 
Lorenzo  Medici's  household  court,  had 


498 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


lived  in  an  atmosphere  where  loveliness 
of  human  form  was  worshipped  as  the 
most  excellent  thing  in  life,  and  where 
a  passionate  sense  of  the  beauty  of 
perfect  line,  muscle,  and  contour,  in 
the  draped  or  naked  form,  became  part 
of  his  very  being;  while  with  this  feel- 
ing for  the  splendid  physical  grew  a 
terrible  sense  of  spiritual  reality  which 
reached  him  from  the  words  of  Savon- 
arola— two  forces  which  controlled 
his  life  ever  after,  and  gave  to  his  art 
that  quality  of  intensity  which  grew  to 
a  perfect  furia  of  potent  strength  as 
life  and  art  became  more  and  more 
significant  to  him.  Then  with  these 
two  impulses  came  another  which 
worked  out  its  great  effect  upon  his 
art — the  desire  for  Italy's  freedom;  a 
desire  so  passionate  that  it  has  been 
said  that  every  Italian  feels  "the  tramp 
of  marching  armies  "  in  his  tremendous 
canvases.  All  these  impulses  and 
forces,  so  vital  to  the  life  of  the  man, 
must  be  read  into  the  work  of  the  Sis- 
tine;  and  more  than  this,  and  most 
vital,  an  inner  sense  of  Soul,  of  Des- 
tiny, of  the  dream  of  the  World  Beyond 
penetrating  and  entering  into  the  glory 
of  the  world  of  Form  to  use  it  as  the 
perfect  medium  for  unseen  impressions. 
This  dream  of  Michelangelo  at  the  full 
fever  heat  of  thirty-three  years  of  age 
was  already  a  revelation. 

The  Sistine  Chapel  is  a  long,  nar- 
row room,  one  hundred  and  thirty-two 
feet  in  length  and  forty-four  in  breadth; 
the  ceiling  is  a  flattened  vault  with  no 
architectural  divisions,  the  vast  frame- 
work of  pilasters  and  brackets,  and 
ribbed  arches,  which  divide  the  space 
and  relegate  each  group  into  its  ap- 
pointed place,  being  a  triumph  of  the 
painter's  and  not  the  sculptor's  skill. 
The  whole  of  this  surface  is  covered 
with  human  figures — there  are  over 
three  hundred  in  all,  and  most  of  them 
of  heroic  size — which  typify  the  Crea- 
tion of  the  World  and  its  ultimate  Re- 
demption through  Christ;  the  under- 
lying theme  of  the  whole  ceiling  being 
the  anticipation  of  and  preparation  for 
the  Christ. 

Through  the  middle  of   the  ceiling 


the  artist  represented  a  long,  narrow 
space  divided  into  nine  compartments 
which  portray  "The  Separation  of 
Light  from  Darkness,"  "The  Creation 
of  the  Sun  and  Moon,"  "The  Separa- 
tion of  the  Land  and  Sea,"  "The 
Creation  of  Adam,"  "The  Creation  of 
Eve,"  "The  Fall  and  Banishment  from 
Paradise,"  "The  Sacrifice  of  Noah," 
"  The  Deluge,"  and  "The  Drunken- 
ness of  Noah."  Of  these  panels  "The 
Creation  of  Man "  has  been  chosen 
for  illustration. 

Then  beneath,  and  supporting  the 
arches  which  contain  these  first  acts 
in  the  drama  of  existence,  comes  a 
series  of  glorious  nude  figures  of  youths 
of  superb  vigour  and  beauty.  "  Form 
Poems,"  they  have  been  called,  "by 
which  the  artist  would  prove  that  the 
human  body  has  a  language  inexhaust- 
ible in  symbolism."  These  join  in  the 
decorative  scheme  like  living  songs  of 
the  first  joy  of  life,  and  taken  singly, 
apart  from  the  artist's  purpose,  are 
among  the  most  perfect  creations  of 
the  whole  Renaissance.  Little  naked 
children,  cherub  boys  and  girls,  painted 
in  chiaroscuro  to  imitate  marble, 
support  the  columns  on  which  these 
youths  are  resting;  and  below  runs  the 
great  series  of  Prophets  and  Sibyls, 
colossal  figures  of  wonderful  force,  in- 
stinct with  passionate  energy,  over- 
borne by  the  tremendous  message 
given  them.  Greek  and  Hebrew  alike, 
Pagan  Sibyl  and  inspired  Prophets, 
Michelangelo  strikes  a  great  note 
when  he  discovers  in  them  the  same 
expectance  of  the  coming  of  ultimate 
Truth. 

Ezekiel  is  here — who  bends  forward, 
the  scroll  of  prophecy  in  his  left  hand 
— ^Joel,  and  Isaiah,  and  Daniel.  The 
prophet  Jeremiah,  who  with  Ezekiel  is 
pictured  in  this  article,  is  of  peculiar 
interest,  for  in  the  solemn  figure  ab- 
sorbed in  the  intensity  of  his  hidden 
vision  we  are  supposed  to  have  the 
painter's  biography  of  himself.  The 
Pagan  seers  are  women:  the  Cumean 
Sibyl,  like  some  primeval  giantess  in 
vast  age  and  heroic  strength;  the 
Erithraea,  who  sits  turning  the  pages 
of  the    book  of   the  future;   and  that 


THE  MESSIAH 


499 


loveliest  Sibylla  Delphica,  who  gazes 
out  at  us  with  wise  yet  youthful  eyes. 
Below,  in  the  lunettes,  the  subjects 
still  bear  out  the  same  message  of  ex- 
pectation of  the  coming  of  Christ;  the 
Brazen  Serpent  is  among  them,  and 
the  story  of  David  and  Goliath,  of 
Esther  and  Judith,  figure  with  others 
in  the  mighty  scheme. 

So  mighty  is  the  whole  scheme  that 
it  is  only  when  studied  face  to  face, 
and  studied  long,  that  the  entire 
majesty  of  such  art  can  be  realised. 
No  description,  no  reproduction  can 
disclose  the  heart  of  its  mysterious 
beauty. 

And  yet  the  secret  of  this  beauty 
and  mystery  lies  open  to  the  world  in 
the  whole  Ideal  of  Michelangelo, 
which  seems  to  have  been  embodied  in 
his  great  desire  for  Life — Life  to  the 
fullest  extent  of  the  measure  of  that 


word.  The  Life  of  the  Soul,  of  the 
Spirit,  of  the  Mind,  and  as  guardian  of 
these,  as  their  vehicle  and  most  perfect 
expression,  the  Body. 

The  beautiful,  strong,  muscular,  ex- 
ultant Bodyl  How  this  man  loved 
every  line  and  curve  and  muscle  of  it! 
How  it  expressed  for  him,  and  through 
him,  the  sweep  and  purpose  and  dom- 
inance of  the  Soul ! 

Is  there  a  lesson  here  for  us  to-day 
who  hear  the  call  of  Nature  as  they  did 
in  the  sun-washed  days  of  Greece,  and 
in  the  days  of  the  Italian  Renaissance? 
God  made  this  world  of  ours,  yet  sent 
as  its  Redeemer  the  perfect  Man;  Di- 
vinity shining  through  flesh;  spirit 
flashing  through  form.  It  is  the  eternal 
and  redemptive  call  which  comes  to 
us  and  says:  **The  body  is  the  taber- 
nacle of  the  soul:  cultivate  the  joy  and 
purity  of  the  body  if  you  would  cherish 
the  life  of  the  Soul !" 


THE   MESSIAH 

BY    REV.     A.     THOMPSON,    D.  D. 

WISDOM!  that  from  God's  own  mouth  proceedest, 

Extending  far  and  nigh. 
Come  to  the  fainting  soul,  O  Thou  that  feedest 
With  manna  from  on  high. 
Thine  hungering  children  cry 
For  Thee,  the  Bread  of  Angels,  strong  and  sweet; 
O  mighty  One,  make  firm  their  tottering  feet, 
That  on  Thy  strength  rely. 


O  Adonai!  Israel's  valiant  leader, 

Anointed  of  the  Lord, 
Against  the  powers  of  sin  and  darkness  dreader 

Than  Michael's  flaming  sword: 

Thy  strong,  unerring  word 
That  pierces  through  and  through  hath  filled  with  terror 
The  demon's  swarming  hosts  of  lust  and  error. 

And  earth  to  heaven  restored. 


500  THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 

O  Root  of  Jesse!  royal  stock  that  springest 

From  Virgin  pure  as  snow: 
A  sign  from  God  of  truth  and  love  Thou  bringest, 

A  pledge  Thou  dost  bestow 

More  lasting  than  the  glow 
Of  burning  bush,  or  Sinai's  smoking  peak, 
When  from  the  cloud  of  glory  Thou  didst  speak 

The  law  to  men  below. 

O  Key  of  David!  Thou  that  openest  wide 

The  gates  of  heaven  to  men; 
Nor  powers  above,  nor  lords  of  earth,  nor  pride 

Of  hell  shall  close  again. 

O  hear  the  glad  refrain 
Of  white-robed  myriads  marching  towards  the  gleaming 
Of  new-born  light  from  pearly  arches  streaming 

O'er  mountain-peak  and  plain  ! 

O  Dayspring  from  on  high!  Thy  light  hath  riven 

The  blackened  pall  of  night; 
And,  tinted  with  the  rosy  hues  of  heaven. 

The  dawn  shines  fair  and  bright. 

Before  Thy  holy  light 
The  darkening  shadows  brooding  o'erthe  land 
Are  scattered  far,  nor  death  nor  sin  shall  stand 

Against  Thy  might. 

O  King  of  nations!  the  desired  of  ages, 

The  reign  of  fear  is  past; 
The  empire,  long  foretold  by  saints  and  sages. 

Of  love  is  come  at  last. 

Not  with  the  trumpet  blast 
Of  worldly  pomp,  with  gold  and  purple  sheen — 
Within  the  heart-shrine  decked  with  wealth  unseen 

A  nobler  throne  Thou  hast. 

Emmanuel!  O  King,  whose  law  eternal 

Disposeth  all  things  well, 
From  realms  unspeakable  of  light  supernal 

Unto  the  depths  of  hell. 

And  all  Thy  glory  tell — 
The  sunbeam's  mote,  Thy  law  and  power  extolling. 
And  through  the  vast  abyss  the  planets  rolling 

The  sounding  chorus  swell. 


THE    VILLA   OF   THE    PETIT    TRIANON 

Built  by  Louis  X\'  for  Madame  du  Barry  and  frequently  employed  as  a  temporary  resi«lcnce 

by  Marie  Antf>inette 

THE   PETIT  TRIANON 

By  ALBERT  R.    CARMAN,  Author  of  "The  Pensionnairesr 


VERSAILLES  is  the  state- 
liest monument  to  dead 
pleasures  in  the  world. 
If  the  Golden  House  of 
Nero  had  stood,  it  might 
have  been  a  rival.  But  the  mind  can 
hardly  recall  another.  \'ersailles  was 
the  pleasure  palace  of  the  most  inso- 
lently luxurious  court  in  history  since 
the  fall  of  the  Roman  Em- 
pire. When  the  French 
monarchy  was  gathering 
its  great  strength,  it  lived 
at  St.  Germain  and  Vow- 
tainebleau;  but  when, 
drunken  with  power,  it  lay 
with  its  foolish  head  in  the 
laps  of  its  mistresses,  it 
built  for  itself  the  match- 
less folly  of  Versailles. 

Then  when  the  morning 
of  feeble  contrition  came, 
and  the  unkingly  Louis 
XVI  was  asked  to  pay  the 
debts  of  his  ancestors,  he 
took  refuge  in  a  far-away 
corner  of  his  park,  and 
with  his  queen,  Marie  An- 
toinette, gave  a  touch  of 
sympathetic  interest  to  the 
gardens  of  the  Petit  Tria- 
non. It  is  a  pity  that  so 
many  tourists  feel  that  they 
can  give  no  more  than  the 


day  to  N'ersailles.  The  Palace  can  be 
walked  through  and  the  gardens  hastily 
visited,  and  even  the  villas  of  the  Tria- 
nons  seen  in  that  time,  but  one  cannot 
in  a  hurry  and  in  a  crowd  catch  the 
spirit  of  this  daintiest  and  yet  most 
desolate  spot  in  all  V^ersailles.  Else- 
where throughout  the  Palace,  which  is 
so  large  as  to  suggest  a  deserted  sum- 


THE    TEMPLE    OF    LOVE 

A  Classic  Pavilion  st;inding  in  the  Gardens  of  the  Petit  Trianon 

not  far  from  tlic  \'illa 


502 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


mer  hotel  into  which  someone  has 
moved  an  art  gallery,  and  throughout 
the  grounds,  where  marvels  of  marble 
colonnade  and  statuary  peep  at  you 
everywhere  through  the  trees,  one  has 
a  sense  of  nervous  activity.  It  may 
be  the  Bosquet  de  la  Reine  which 
recalls  the  intrigue  of  the  Queen's 
necklace,  or  the  'CEil  de  Boeut  which 
suggests  the  stirring  days  of  the  Rev- 
olution.    But  here  in  the  gardens  of 


butcher's    wife    and    the  peasant  girl 
found  only  in  riotous  extravagance. 

The  villa  of  the  Petit  Trianon  is  a 
small  building,  which  suggests  .the 
cool  architecture  of  Italy.  Within  it 
are  still  some  reminders  of  the  Marie 
Antoinette  who  found  such  relief  in 
fleeing  here  from  the  Palace  across  the 
park  yonder,  when  the  court  was  full 
of  cowardice  and  indecision,  when  the 
Ministers  of  the  King  seemed  to  have 


MARIE  Antoinette's  cottages 

A  Court  Rendering  of  a  Thatched  Peasant  Cottage,  where  Louis  XVI,  Marie  Antoinette  and  their  courtiers 

played  at  Peasant  Life 


the  Petit  Trianon  there  is  nothing  but 
the  spirit  of  play.  And  it  is  not  the 
wickedly  wasteful  play  of  which  one 
thinks  when  remembering  the  pranks 
which  the  gross  Louis  XV  dared  for 
the  entertainment  of  his  butcher's  wife 
and  his  peasant  girl;  but  light,  harm- 
less, almost  childish  play — the  play  of 
a  Queen  to  whom  it  was  a  novelty  and 
a  relaxation  to  unbend,  and  who  found 
in   simplicity   the   pleasure    which  the 


no  purpose  but  to  thwart  her  royal 
will  in  the  matter  of  expenditure,  and 
when  the  people  were  a  scowling  men- 
ace, apparently — to  her  court-trained 
mind — intended  chiefly  to  keep  petulant 
Austrian  princesses  from  getting  their 
way.  But  things  which  were  once 
used  by  Marie  Antoinette  may  be  found 
in  many  a  museum.  Isolated  and 
ticketed  and  forlorn,  they  seem  to  have 
lost  all   aroma   of  her.     The  building 


THE  PETIT  TRIANON 


503 


is,  of  course,  only  a  villa,  and  is  not 
very  imposing,  either  inside  or  out. 
But  the  gardens  behind  it  are  places  to 
rest  the  soul  after  long  hours  spent 
amidst  the  formal  geometrical  land- 
scape gardening  of  V^ersailles.  Here 
the  paths  have  not  been  laid  out  by 
Euclid;  and  the  Canadian  traveller,  at 
all  events,  is  saved  that  teasing  sense 
of  the  incongruous  which  burdens  him 
a  trifle  at  finding  magnificent  statuary 
scattered  through  rough    copses  in  a 


better  catch  the  spirit  of  the  wilful 
Marie  Antoinette  than  from  lonely 
pieces  of  her  furniture  standing  in  open 
desolation  in  the  villa  yonder.  Here  a 
perplexed  Queen  might  forget  the 
weight  of  a  crown  which  had  seemed 
a  burden  from  the  first,  and  play  with 
great  light-heartedness  under  these  in- 
formal trees. 

As  for  Louis,  whom  Mark  Twain 
says  was  always  "  the  female  saint," 
he  must  have  taken  great  satisfaction 


LOUIS     .MILL 
Here  Lonis  played  the  BCiDer  and  ground  Com,  while  his  Peofde  Starved  undei.  the,'-Weigbt  of  Taxation 


haphazard    fashion    or    piled    in    the 
basin  of  a  running  fountain. 

As  one  takes  to  the  paths  of  the 
Petit  Trianon,  he  cannot  tell  in  ad- 
vance which  way  they  will  go.  They 
may  skirt  a  little  pond;  they  may  climb 
a  low  hill  and  then  turn  off  in  another 
direction  once  they  are  over  it;  they 
will  split  up  and  challenge  you  to  de- 
cide which  fork  you  had  rather  choose. 
It  is  a  bit  of  park,  quite  in  the  Eng- 
lish fashion;  nothing  Italian  about  it 
but  the  villa.     And   here  you  can  far 


in  pretending  to  himself  that  he  was 
usefully  employed  here,  grinding  corn 
like  any  other  miller.  The  little  ham- 
let where  all  this  imitation  of  peasant 
life  went  on,  now  stands  empty  and 
silent,  guarded  by  a  solitary  police- 
man. It  is  a  fair  distance  from  the 
villa,  and  the  gay  company  which  had 
come  over  here  from  the  stiff  palace 
parterres  to  play  out  their  comedy, 
might  have  felt  themselves  a  hundred 
miles  away  from  the  circle  of  the  court. 
The  cottages  are  of  the  plainest,  such 


504 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


THK    DAIRY 

A  Part  of  the  Toy  Peasant  Village  in  the  Gardens  of  the  I'etit  Trianon.     Note  the  natural  trees  and  foliage 
in  all  these  garden  pictures,  so  unlike  the  formal  Italian  gardening  of  Versailles 


as  we  might  find  here  at  an  unosten- 
tatious summer  resort;  but  they  are 
carefully  kept.  They  were  fixing  the 
heavy  thatching  which  roofs  them  the 
day  we  were  there.  The  low  windows 
out  of  which  Marie  Antoinette  sold  her 
milk  to  the  other  villagers  were  not  as 
ornamental  as  those  of  many  a  village 
home  in  France  to-day;  and  no  one 
could  accuse  the  court  of  being  extrav- 
agant in  the  building  of  this  set  of 
play-houses. 

Of  course,  we  went  over  to  Louis' 
mill  and  looked  at  the  really  effective 
wheel  still  hanging  in  the  still  water 
of  the  little  lake  which  borders  it,  and 
climbed  about  the  baby  building  and 
tried  to  think  how  the  amiable  Louis 
looked,  busy  and  benevolent  with  the 
white  dust  on  his  coarse  clothes  and 
about  his  sleek  face,  happy  for  once  in 
his  life.  Near  was  the  village  green 
— not  much  larger  than  a  good  danc- 
ing floor — where  they  had  their  peas- 
ant dances,  and  doubtless  told  them- 
selves how   happy  the  peasants   must 


be  with  none  of  the  cares  of  State  to 
perplex  them.  And  all  the  while,  out- 
side this  sheltered  nursery  for  grown- 
ups, men  and  women  were  dying  of 
hunger,  and  St.  Antoine  was  getting 
ready  for  its  terrible  march  to  Ver- 
sailles to  bring  back  to  starving  Paris 
"the  baker,  the  baker's  wife  and  the 
baker's  little  boy." 

On  the  way  to  the  villa  from  this 
sylvan  scene,  we  pass,  standing  alone 
and  empty  and  open  to  the  autumn 
weather,  a  graceful  "Temple  of  Love" 
after  a  classic  model.  There  is  nothing 
daintier  in  all  the  parks  of  Versailles. 
And  here  in  the  garden  of  Petit  Tria- 
non, is  the  one  place  for  such  an  airy 
temple  of  purity  to  rise  under  a  sky 
which  was  accustomed  to  see  a  love 
in  which  purity  had  little  part.  For 
this  play-ground  of  an  honest  —  if 
stupid — King  and  an  unstained  Queen, 
is  the  White  Stone  amidst  all  the 
varie-coloured  marbles  of  Versailles. 

It  is  impossible  not  to  feel  a  certain 
respect  for  this  last  of  the  royal  couples 


TAUNLA,   THE  DACOIT 


505 


of  France  before  the  upheaval  of  the 
Revolution.  It  may  be  that  the  trag- 
edy which  ended  their  lives  forbids  us 
to  look  upon  them  with  the  critical 
eye  we  turn  upon  their  predecessors. 
But  there  must  be  something,  too,  in 
the  facts  that  surround  us.  Beside 
the  Petit  Trianon  is  the  Grand  Trianon 
which  Louis  XIV  built  for  one  of  his 
mistresses,  Madame  de  Maintenon. 
Over  in  front  of  us  wave  the  trees  of 
the  park  which  is  starred  all  over  with 
stories  of  intrigue.  Yonder  in  the 
Palace  the  guide  will  show  you  the 
apartments  of  DuBarryand  of  Pompa- 
dour.     But  here  a  man   and   his  wife 


gathered  their  friends  about  them  and 
played  for  a  while  at  the  harmless  jest 
that  they  had  been  born  peasants  in- 
stead of  princes  and  nobles.  Here  we 
can  climb  up  under  a  clump  of  trees 
and  throw  ourselves  on  the  clean  grass 
and  look  with  musing  eyes  at  the  toy 
mill  and  the  thatched  cottages,  and 
breathe  a  sweet  air  without  a  taint  of 
putridity.  It  is  a  place  to  wish  that 
the  inevitable  Revolution  had  caught 
some  one  else  on  the  throne  of  France 
except  a  high-strung  Austrian  Princess 
and  a  mild-mannered  locksmith  who, 
by  great  ill-fortune,  got  into  a  royal 
cradle. 


TAUNLA,  THE  DACOIT 

By   W.  A.  FRASER,  Author  of  ** Eye  0/ a  God,"  ''Mooswaof  the  Boundaries^'* 
**The  Outcast,''  *' Thoroughbreds,"  etc. 


lALF-WAY  from  Calcutta  to 
Rangoon  the  white  sand 
nips  a  pool  from  the  bay  of 
Bengal,  and  the  pool  is  a 
harbour.  On  its  southern 
rim  is  the  town  of  Kyouk  Phyou. 

Once  this  place  was  a  penal  settle- 
ment, garrisoned  by  troops;  but  the 
jungle  fever  bit  at  the  soldiers  till  they 
died  or  went  away,  leaving  the  life 
convicts  to  leaven  with  villainy  the 
Aracanese  dwellers  in  that  land. 

And  now  they  were  so  bad  that  the 
Government  had  put  a  ban  on  opium; 
and  because  opium  was  proscribed, 
everybody  used  it,  and  the  smugglers 
thrived.  Where  opium  eaters  are,  are 
thieves  always;  so  Taunla  Boh,  who 
had  grown  luxuriantly  in  the  fields  of 
villainy,  made  Kyouk  Phyou  his  City 
of  Refuge. 

The  dacoits  who  stuck  to  the  jungle, 
and  murdered  poverty-stricken  vil- 
lagers, were  but  rudimentary  robbers 
as  compared  with  Taunla.  He  used 
to  come  to  the  police  thanna  and  read 
on  the  notice  board  the  rich,  juicy  re- 
ward offered  for  his  apprehension ; 
then  he  would    laugh  at  the    detailed 


description  of  his  person,  and  go  down 
to  the  bazaar  and  gamble  with  men 
who  boasted  of  how  they  would  like  to 
come  face  to  face  with  Taunla,  the 
Dacoit  Chief. 

My  impression  of  Taunla  had  been 
quite  nebulous  up  to  the  time  he  cast 
covetous  eyes  upon  the  bag  of  rupees 
I  was  carrying  from  the  Government 
treasury.  As  usual,  Taunla  had  the 
advantage;  he  knew  what  was  in  the 
money-sack,  while  I  did  not  know  who 
was  the  simple  villager  in  the  red-and- 
green-striped  putsoe  who  walked  casu- 
ally behind  me. 

Dan  was  waiting  at  the  Government 
bungalow,  and  together  we  proceeded 
on  our  way  to  the  Salt  Village.  From 
that  place  we  would  take  a  dug-out 
and  go  to  Minbyn.  Dan  was  stationed 
with  me  at  Minbyn,  and,  in  the  left- 
handed  vernacular  of  the  native,  had 
come  by  a  curious  name.  I  was  the 
Sahib,  and  he,  being  my  friend,  was 
called  the  "Friend  Sahib." 

When  we  came  to  a  fork  in  the 
road,  my  comrade  said,  "The  tide 
does  not  serve  till  ten  o'clock.  I 
will    go    down    to    the    bazaar,     and 


5o6 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


be  at  the  Salt  Village  in  an  hour  or 
two." 

"Have  you  a  gun?"  I  asked. 
"They're  a  pretty  bad  lot  in  the  bazaar 
at  night." 

He  hadn't,  so  I  pressed  my  revolver 
upon  him,  saying  that  for  the  open 
road  the  *'  Penang  Lawyer"  I  carried 
would  be  sufficient.  A  Penang  Lawyer 
is  a  heavy-headed  walking  stick 
brought  from  Penang. 

As  1  cut  across  the  corner  of  a  field 
to  the  Salt  Village  road,  I  observed 
two  men,  and  instinctively  knew  that 
they  had  been  watching  me.  One 
wore  the  red-and-green  putsoe  I  had 
noticed  leaving  the  treasury;  whilst 
his  companion's  dirty  attire  betokened 
the  opium  slave. 

The  dusk  of  evening  was  graying 
the  white  sand  that  had  gleamed  like 
snow  all  day  in  the  hot  sun,  and  the 
road  to  the  Salt  Village  ran  through  a 
stretch  of  jungle  that  at  night  was  a 
cavern  of  darkness.  And  in  this  jungle 
was  a  village  of  thieves  and  murderers 
— life  convicts,  most  of  them. 

All  this  came  sharply  to  my  mind  as 
I  cut  across  the  stretch  of  waste  land, 
and,  from  the  corner  of  my  eye  watch- 
ing the  two  men  on  the  road,  I  tried 
to  time  my  movements  so  as  to  fall  in 
behind  them;  but  they  loitered  along, 
talking  and  laughing,  and  checkmated 
me  in  this  move. 

Coming  to  the  road,  they  were  be- 
hind me;  as  I  pushed  on  they  quickened 
their  pace,  closing  up.  It  was  a  dacoit 
plant,  I  reasoned.  As  we  approached 
the  dark  passage  in  the  jungle  the  two 
behind  would  give  a  signal,  their 
comrades  in  villainy  hiding  in  ambush 
would  spring  up,  and  I  would  be  sand- 
wiched between  the  two  parties. 

Having  thought  out  their  pro- 
gramme, I  improvised  a  hasty  off-set 
to  it.  As  the  natives  say,  I  would 
"kiss  the  tiger,"  which  is  an  Oriental 
way  of  taking  the  bull  by  the  horns. 

Gradually  my  pace  slackened,  while 
I  keyed  my  ear  to  the  music  their  slip- 
ping feet  made  in  the  yielding  sand. 
When  they  were  quite  close  I  suddenly 
wheeled  about,  and  at  short  range 
asked  where  they  were  going. 


They  started  a  little  at  first,  but  I 
spoke  quietly,  and  a  benevolent  smile 
came  to  the  simple  face  of  the  man  in 
red-and  green,  and  he  answered,  in  a 
soft  Burmese  voice,  ^'Salaam,  Sahib! 
your  slaves  are  going  to  the  Salt 
Village." 

"Then  carry  this  bag  of  rupees  for 
me,"  1  commanded;   "it  is  heavy." 

The  benevolent  smile  was  put  to 
flight  by  a  stare  of  astonishment, 
shrouded  in  a  look  of  obstinacy. 

' '  We  are  going  to  the  j  ungle  Village 
first,  Sahib,"  he  objected. 

I  had  worked  to  within  striking 
distance  of  the  two  innocents,  casually 
elevating  my  "Penang  Lawyer"  to 
the  proper  altitude  for  a  downward 
stroke  sufficient  to  crack  an  ordinary 
skull. 

With  my  left  hand  I  tendered  the 
bag  of  rupees,  accompanied  by  a  few- 
words  of  advice. 

"Carry  this,"  I  said.  "Now  give 
me  your  dah.  Fall  in  in  front  of  me — 
there,  that's  the  way  now;  so;  I'll 
take  hold  of  both  your  putsoes  and  if 
you  make  a  suspicious  move,  or  call  to 
any  one,  I'll  crack  your  heads  with  this 
heavy  stick.     Now  march!" 

There  was  a  faint  movement  of  re- 
bellion from  the  opium  eater,  but  the 
man  in  red-and-green  muttered  some- 
thing, and  the  two  started  forward. 

I  saw  at  once  I  had  to  do  with  men 
who  had  "done  time";  they  had  the 
unmistakable  walk  of  legs  wide  apart 
in  the  step,  that  comes  from  carrying 
the  jail  shackles,  the  chain  that  runs 
from  waist  to  ankles.  And  Red-and- 
green's  ready  acceptance  of  the  situ- 
ation marked  him  as  a  leader,  knowing 
the  value  of  discipline. 

Under  the  circumstances  I  had  made 
the  best  arrangement  possible,  but  my 
plan  might  miscarry.  The  cool  acqui- 
escence of  the  leader  somehow  filled 
me  with  misgiving  ;  and  something  in 
his  steady,  fierce  eye  suggested  unholy 
retaliation  if  he  got  the  upper  hand. 

Past  a  little  white  pagoda  we  went, 
on  through  the  mango  grove  and,  as 
we  dipped  down  into  the  flat  lands 
between  rice  fields,  we  came  to  the 
dark  bit  of  jungle. 


TAUNLA,   THE  DACOIT 


507 


"Go  slow,"  I  said,  speaking  low; 
"and  do  not  even  call  like  a  night 
bird,  nor  speak  at  all." 

It  was  a  close  hazard — almost  an 
even  chance.  If  they  broke  from 
me  I  might  bring  one  down — I  could 
not  hope  to  wing  both  of  them. 
After  all  there  might  be  no  ambush; 
just    that  these  had  meant  to  rob  me. 

Slow-going  in  the  sand  of  the  road, 
our  feet  hardly  whispered  on  the  thick 
night  air.  Once  I  heard  the  "klonk- 
klonk  "  of  the  coppersmith  bird  from 
near  the  jungle  village  which  was  off 
the  road. 

*•  Chupl"  (silence)  I  hissed  in  a 
whisper.  The  bird  call  might  be  a 
signal. 

My  men  answered  nothing;  and 
straining  my  eyes  till  they  ached  from 
the  tense  concentration,  I  clung  closer 
and  closer  to  the  two,  and  step  by  step 
we  ate  at  the  stretch  of  danger  which 
was  the  dark  going  that  reached  beyond 
the  village  of  thieves.  Once  a  Bur- 
mese voice  spoke  from  amongst  the 
trees  as  we  passed,  but  as  nothing 
answered  from  the  road,  it  spoke  not 
again. 

I  drew  a  breath  of  relief  as  we 
slipped  to  the  open  road  under  the 
bright,  star  lighted  sky,  and  in  half 
an  hour  I  was  at  the  Government 
bungalow  in  the  Salt  Village.  My 
man.  Emir  Alii,  was  waiting  on  the 
verandah.  As  he  took  the  bag  of 
rupees  from  the  Burman's  hand  I  saw 
him  start. 

I  gave  the  two  men  a  rupee  each 
for  their  involuntary  service,  and  they 
slipped  quietly,  like  grey  shadows,  into 
the  night,  and  were  gone 

"  Where  did  the  Sahib  find  Taunla?" 
Emir  Alii  asked. 

"Taunla!"  I  ejaculated,  I  fear  al- 
most in  horror;  "Taunla  the  Dacoit, 
.  do  you  mean.  Emir  Alii  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Sahib,  I  am  sure  that  was 
Taunla.  Surely  Allah  is  great  to 
have  kept  Taunla's  evil  hand  at  his 
side." 

"  Why  didn't  you  speak  in  time?" 
I  asked;  "we  might  have  captured 
the  cut- throat — there's  a  big  reward 
for  the  dacoit." 


"I  wasn't  sure.  Sahib;  and  if  it 
was  Taunla,  we  could  not  have  taken 
him — he  was  watching  like  a  tiger. 
Also  is  my  family  in  the  village,  and  if  I 
fought  with  Taunla,  they  would  all  be 
killed  by  his  men." 

At  nine  o'clock  Dan  came  with  the 
other  part  of  the  happening  engraved 
in  lines  of  excitement  upon  his  face. 

"What  is  the  matter?"  I  asked, 
when  he  thrust  himself  from  the  outer 
darkness  upon  us  with  the  bustle  of  a 
man  who  has  participated  in  a  riot. 

"Matter!  "  he  gasped.  "1  was  all 
but  murdered.  As  1  came  stumbling 
along  that  dark  bit  of  road  near  the 
jungle  village,  I  blundered  into  a 
hornet's  nest.  Suddenly  a  man  popped 
up  in  front,  and  I  heard,  or  saw — I 
don't  know  which — the  sweep  of  his 
duh,  as  he  made  a  cut  at  me.  I  hadn't 
time  to  draw  the  pistol,  but  struck  out 
with  my  fist.  I  landed,  too,  good  and 
hard  on  his  jaw,  and  he  went  down 
like  a  shot.  Jehannum  broke  loose  at 
once — the  jungle  was  full  of  natives. 
They  rushed  me  in  a  body,  I  suppose 
— I  hardly  know  what  happened — but 
I  was  on  my  back.  I  thought  it  was 
a  plant  against  some  rich  native,  and 
called  out  I  was  a  sahib.  Then  old 
Rathu — I  knew  his  voice — cried  out  to 
the  others,  'It's  the  Friend  Sahib;  let 
him  go!'  The  thieves  were  searching 
for  loot — evidently  they  had  got  the 
wrong  man." 

I  explained  the  situation  to  Dan  as 
I  understood  it  now.  Taunla  had 
planned  to  give  the  village  thieves  a 
signal  as  he  was  bringing  the  man 
with  the  rupees.  Evidently  I  had 
come  through  earlier  than  expected, 
and  Dan  had  fallen   into  the  ambush. 

"But  why  did  not  Taunla  ^o  back 
and  tell  Rathu  the  robbery  was  off?" 
my  comrade  asked. 

"Taunla  was  afraid  I  would  tell  the 
Sahib  he  was  a  dacoit,  and  ran  to  the 
jungle,"  declared  Emir  Alii. 

The  flood  tide  was  now  running. 

"Go  to  the  fishing  village,  Emir 
AUi,"  I  said,  "and  have  the  Head- 
man send  a  dug-out  and  men  to  put  us 
up  the  creek  to  Aung." 

Emir  Alii  soon  returned,  and  pres- 


5o8 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


ently  we  heard  a  voice  from  the  little 
salt  pier  calling",  ^^  Thakinef  Ho-o 
Thakine!'"  It  was  the  canoe-men, 
and  we  hurried  down  to  the  water. 

Gingerly  Dan  took  his  place  in  the 
unstable  craft,  facing  the  bow  paddle- 
man.  As  I  followed,  cautiously  crouch- 
ing with  my  back  to  the  paddler  in  the 
stern,  Emir  Alii  touched  me  on  the 
shoulder  and  said,  "Turn  around. 
Sahib." 

'•  Why?"  I  queried,  for  it  was  unus- 
ual to  sit  facing  backward  in  a  dug- 
out. 

'*  It  will  rain.  Sahib,  and  the  wet 
will  be  in  your  face." 

The  moon  smiled  in  mockery  at  the 
improbability  of  my  servant's  reason; 
but  he  pinched  my  arm  as  he  spoke, 
and  without  further  question  I  turned 
toward  the  steersman. 

I  had  carelessly  dropped  my  big  re- 
volver in  the  centre  of  the  canoe;  and 
as  Emir  squatted  between  Dan  and 
myself,  he  took  the  pistol  from  its  hol- 
ster, passed  it  to  me,  and  said:  '•  Keep 
the  little  gun  in  your  lap.  Sahib,  so  it 
won't  get  wet;  and  give  me  the  bag  of 
rupees  here,  for  fear  they  fall  into  the 
creek." 

Mechanically  I  complied.  I  was  ac- 
customed to  have  Emir  arrange  minor 
matters  for  me,  but  I  was  puzzling 
over  why  I  should  ride  backwards  in  a 
canoe  for  seven  miles.  The  rain  story 
was  pure  fudge,  for  it  was  bright 
moonlight.  The  pinch  on  my  arm 
meant  something,  but  what? 

To  the  groaning  scrape  of  the  steers- 
man's paddle  as  he  swept  it  along  the 
gunwale  of  the  dug-out,  I  pondered 
over  my  narrow  escapefrom  the  dacoit's 
plot. 

I  was  presently  brought  out  of  my 
reverie  by  Emir  Alli's  voice  asking 
sharply  of  the  Burman,  "Where  are 
you  going?" 

"  What  is  it?"  I  queried. 

"They  are  going  the  short  cut," 
Emir  AUi  answered;  "the  tide  is  still 
low,  and  the  mud  bank  will  be  bare." 

The  paddler  in  the  stern  answered 
angrily,  intimating  that  Emir  Alii,  a 
Bengali  fool,  had  come  of  parents  that 
were  of  no  nationality  at  all.      But  per- 


sonal abuse  counts  for  little  with 
Orientals,  and  my  servant  ignored  it, 
confining  himself  to  the  real  point  at 
issue,  that  we  should  be  stuck  high 
and  dry  if  we  went  by  the  small  creek. 

The  boatman  was  obdurate — did  he 
not  know  the  way  to  Aung;  and  had  he 
not  floated  on  those  tides  when  Emir 
Alii  was  still  with  his  animal  parents? 

Emir  appealed  to  me,  saying, 
"  Don't  let  him  go  that  way.  Sahib." 

Of  the  extent  ol  the  boatman's  creek 
knowledge  I  was  ignorant,  but  Emir 
Alii  knew  the  way  well,  and  his  interests 
were  my  interests.  So  I  commanded 
the  Burman  to  keep  to  the  big  creek, 
and  assured  him  that  his  loud  voice 
made  my  head  ache;  therefore  he  must 
talk  less  and  paddle  more. 

Also  Emir  Alii  had  touched  me 
again,  telegraphically,  in  the  back 
with  his  elbow,  so  I  uttered  this  com- 
mand in  a  manner  that  compelled 
compliance. 

We  came  to  Aung  peacefully  enough 
after  that;  I  paid  the  boatmen  as  they 
still  sat  in  the  dugout;  they  turned  the 
log  craft  about,  and,  hugging  the 
shore  to  escape  the  current,  paddled 
away  in  the  moonlight. 

Our  ponies  were  waiting  to  carry  us 
to  Minbyn,  eight  miles.  As  we  rode 
along  I  said  to  Emir  Alii,  jogging  a 
foot  at  my  stirrup,  "Why  did  the 
boatmen  go  back  against  the  tide? 
I  never  saw  these  lazy  beggars  do 
that  before." 

"  Perhaps  Taunla  was  afraid.  Sahib. " 

"  Taunla  !  Taunla  again.  Emir? 
And  again  you  did  not  tell  me?" 

"  I  wasn't  sure.  Sahib,  but  I  think 
it  was  Taunla." 

"I  don't,"  I  answered.  "This  man 
was  dressed  like  a  boatman,  and  the 
other  rascal  had  a  fine  putsoe." 

"That  is  Taunla's  'way.  Sahib;  he 
changes  his  clothes  like  the  tree  lizard 
that  is  one  minute  green,  and  the  next 
brown,  and  sometimes  white — only 
Taunla's  eye,  that  is  like  the  tiger's, 
is  always  the  same.  That  is  why  I 
thought  it  was  the  dacoit — only  he  has 
that  evil  eye.  If  the  Sahib  had  sat 
with  his  back  to  Taunla,  the  dacoit 
would    have  killed    him   with   his  dah 


TA  UNLA ,   THE  DA  CO  IT 


509 


when  we  came  to  the    place    ot  little 
water." 

"You  should  have  told  me,"  I  said 
again. 

"The  dacoit  would  have  heard,  and 
would  have  killed  my  family  and  me 
too." 

"Well,  we  outwitted  him  anyway," 
said,  "and  it's  the  duty  of  the  police 
to  capture  dacoits,  not  mine." 

"Yes,  Sahib,  Taunla  has  gone  back 
to  be  with  the  opium  eaters  at  Kyouk 
Phyou.  Allah  was  good  to  your 
honour  this  time;  and  the  next  time 
you  go  to  Kyouk  Phyou,  Sahib,  you 
must  watch,  and  come  by  the  road 
only  in  the  daytime,  for  it  is  said  here 
in  Aracan  that  if  Taunla  casts  his  evil 
eye  upon  the  rupees  of  any  one,  like 
a  tiger  he  will  never  give  up  the  stalk 
until  he  has  come  by  them." 

Half  a  mile  short  of  Minbyn,  as  we 
passed  the  police  station,  the  little 
bungalow  was  as  silent  in  the  gloom  of 
a  big  Cottonwood  as  a  pagoda. 

"The  black  police  are  of  little  use," 
Emir  Alii  said  ;  "they  sleep  like  opium 
eaters.  One  time  Taunla  came  in  the 
night  to  this  thanna,  and  stole  the 
guns,  as  the  four  police  slumbered, 
even  as  they  do  now.  Then  for  fear 
it  would  be  known  to  the  Captain 
Sahib,  they  sent  a  hundred  rupees  to 
the  dacoit,  and  he  sent  back  their 
guns." 

In  my  bungalow  I  had  no  safe 
beyond  a  tin  cash  box;  and  in  this  I 
placed  the  bag  of  rupees,  congratu- 
lating myself  that  it  was  not  then  in 
the  hands  of  the  dacoit.  The  money 
had  been  brought  up  to  pay  the  coolies, 
and  would  not  be  in  hand  more  than  a 
day  or  two.  In  the  day  the  servants 
were  responsible,  and  at  night  I  slept 
in  the  room  with  the  cash  box  and  its 
contents. 

Next  day  my  Burmese  cook  came  to 
me  and  asked  for  his  month's  pay, 
with  the  usual  Oriental  reason  that  his 
mother  was  dead.  I  opened  the  cash 
box  and  paid  him  from  the  bag. 

Glancing  up  suddenly  as  I  counted 
the  rupees,  a  covetous  look  in  his 
sinister  eyes  gave  me  a  start.  The 
cook's  small,  red-and-yellow  streaked 


eyes  were  wolfish  —  articulate  with 
unholy  desire  for  the  silver  wealth — for 
the  half  of  which  he  would  willingly 
commit  murder,  I  had  no  doubt. 

When  he  had  gone  I  placed  the  bag 
of  money  in  my  trunk,  knowing  that 
if  I  had  read  his  thoughts  aright,  and 
he  were  a  Burmese  thief,  he  would 
have  many  keys,  and  might  find  occa- 
sion to  open  my  box. 

Even  as  I  finished  the  transfer  I 
laughed  at  my  own  over- cautiousness. 
For  two  years  I  had  had  money  off 
and  on  in  just  the  same  way  and 
nothing  ever  happened — the  affair  with 
Taunla  had  probably  got  upon  my 
nerves. 

That  night  Dan  came  to  my  bunga- 
low after  dinner  for  a  talk  over  our 
cheroots.  As  we  sat  in  the  big  arm 
chairs  on  the  verandah,  I  was  strangely 
drowsy. 

"By  Jove!  old  chap,  don't  go  to 
sleep,"  came  from  Dan  presently,  in  a 
tone  of  remonstrance. 

I  smiled  apologetically  to  myself  in 
the  dim  light. 

"I  do  feel  deuced  sleepy,"  I  an- 
swered; "up  so  late  last  night,  I  sup- 
pose." 

"Your  liver,  old  man,"  Dan  re- 
torted. "Better  take  some  quinine, 
and  turn  in.  I'll  clear  out.  Suppose 
we'll  pay  the  coolies  to-morrow  ?" 

"Good-night,"  I  answered. 

Dan's  voice  had  sounded  far  away. 
On  the  western  shore  of  our  island  the 
heavy  breakers  were  sending  their 
booming  roar  through  the  jungle,  and 
my  comrade's  voice  seemed  to  melt  in 
their  sonorous  wail. 

"By  Jove — I'm — I'm  in — for  some — 
thing  !"  I  muttered,  for  I  lifted  a  load 
of  many  tons  as  I  struggled  from  the 
chair. 

From  the  leaf  roof  just  above  a  tuck- 
taw  lizard  droned  drearily,  "Tucktaw, 
tucktaw-w-w !"  winding  up  with  his 
sneering  drawl,   "aw-w-w!" 

Had  Dan  called?  My  senses  were 
poppy  shrouded.  My  eyelids  clung  to 
each  other,  and  1  lifted  them  with  pain 
I  reeled ;  my  feet  were  encased  in 
leaden  boots ;  heavy  manacles  bound 
my     limbs  ;     my     shoulders     swayed 


5IO 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


drunkenly.  **Dan!  Dan!  see  here, 
old  chap!  Yes,  he  must  have  spoken — 
it  was  his  voice." 

I  clutched  at  the  bamboo  wall,  and 
slipped  down,  down.  There  was  some- 
thing^ soothing  in  giving  over  the 
struggle,  and  I  laughed  idiotically  as  I 
swayed  for  a  second  on  my  knees. 

Was    I    in    bed — where ?    Then 

came  oblivion.     This  lasted  for  hours. 

"Dan  —  Dan!"  (somebody  had 
fallen  over  me).  "Dan,  old  man!" 
Then  I  laughed.  "I  say,  I  thought 
you'd  gone  home." 

Indistinctly  I  could  hear  him  running 
down  the  steps  of  the  bungalow,  and 
with  a  silly  laugh  I  called  after  him, 
"You're  full,  Dan — have  you  been 
hitting  my  bottle?" 

A  laugh  came  back  out  of  the  dark, 
I  struggled  to  my  feet.  What  was  I 
doing  there,  sleeping  in  the  doorway? 

I  shambled  to  the  bed,  throwing  my- 
self upon  it,  dressed  as  I  was. 

Emir  Alli's  voice  woke  me,  calling 
me  to  breakfast. 

Instinctively  I  looked  for  my  cash 
box.  It  was  gone  !  The  little  table 
upon  which  it  had  rested  was  bare. 

"  I've  been  robbed  !"  I  said  to  Emir 
Alii;   "the  box  is  gone!" 

The  servant  stood  thinking  for  a 
minute. 

"Allah!  Allah!"  he  exclaimed. 
"It  is  as  they  say  of  Taunla,  *once 
he  sees  the  silver  he  never  gives  up.'  " 

"Give  the  Friend  Sahib  my  salaams, 
and  ask  him  to  come  quick,"  I  com- 
manded. 

Dan  laughed  when  I  asked  him  if 
he  had  fallen  over  me  in  the  night,  for 
I  could  remember  it  like  a  dream. 

"Somebody  drugged  you,"  he  said. 

"The  cook  did  that,"  I  declared. 

"But  Taunla  took  the  rupees,"  said 
Emir  Alii. 

"The  budmash  got  them  at  last," 
muttered  Dan,  half  in  admiration  for 
the  villain's  persistence. 

"Hardly,"  I  retorted. 

"It  looks  like  it,"  said  Dan,  nodding 
toward  the  empty  table. 

I  unlocked  my  trunk,  and  my  friend 
smiled  in  approbation  when  he  saw  the 
silver  still  safe. 


"But  also,  old  man,  I  am  seven 
kinds  of  a  long-eared  goat,  for  I  did 
this  unwise  thing.  Because  of  the 
cook's  thief  eyes,  I  put  the  rupees 
here,  thinking  he  might  find  a  key  for 
the  box.  But  in  it  were  papers  more 
valuable  to  me  than  this  bag  of  coin — 
a  gold  watch,  a  couple  of  one  hundred 
rupee  notes,  and  other  belongings." 

"He  can't  do  anything  with  the 
notes,"  Dan  declared. 

"No,  he  can't.  Nobody  will  take 
them  unless  he  signs  them,  and  he'll 
hardly  do  that." 

"The  cook  is  at  the  bottom  of  it," 
my  friend  declared,  "and  we'd  better 
nab  him  and  search  his  box," 

"  Don't  do  that.  Sahib,"  pleaded 
Emir  Alii.  "Taunla  will  have  every- 
thing, and  you  will  find  nothing. 
Don't  let  the  cook  know  that  you  sus- 
pect him,  but  set  a  man  to  watch." 

There  was  a  consolation  in  realising 
that  the  persistent  dacoit  had  so  far 
made  little  gain  to  himself,  though  the 
loss  of  the  papers  would  practically 
nullify  six  months'  toil. 

"We  must  have  the  police  sergeant 
start  his  men  after  Taunla,"  I  ex- 
claimed. 

But  again  Emir  Alii  objected. 
"The  black  police  will  not  catch 
Taunla,  and  you  will  not  get  the 
papers  back.  Sahib.  Let  it  be  known 
that  you  will  give  a  reward  for  your 
box;  let  the  cook  know  this,  then 
wait,  Snhib;  something  will  happen." 

To  have  said  nothing  to  the  cook 
would  have  aroused  his  suspicion  as 
effectually  as  charging  him  with  the 
theft;  he  would  have  surmised  that  he 
was  being  watched  secretly. 

When  summoned  before  us,  he,  of 
course,  protested  ignorance — he  was 
a  poor  man  that  went  to  his  family  in 
the  village  at  night,  sometimes,  and 
even  last  night  he  had  been  away. 
There  were  opium  smokers  all  about, 
and  some  of  them  had  done  this  wicked 
thing.  Did  he  not  eat  the  salt  of  my 
giving?  Therefore,  how  could  he 
think  of  stealing  the  good  sahib's 
rupees  ? 

It  seemed  positively  wicked  to  dis- 
believe so  holy  a  man — one  so  full  of 


TA  UNLA ,   THE  DA  CO  IT 


ill 


allegiance.  He  must  help  us  to  catch 
the  thief.  Even  if  he  got  back  but  the 
papers,  there  would  be  for  him,  worthy 
cook,  a  hundred  rupees.  If  I  would 
grant  him  leave  he  would  try  to  find 
the  debased  children  of  unrighteous 
mothers  who  had  looted  me. 

The  Friend  Sahib  opined  that  we 
must  shadow  the  cook,  but  Emir  AUi 
said,  "No.  In  the  jungle  the  wicked 
eye  of  Taunla  reaches  two  koss^  while 
the  sahib's  reaches  one.  If  you  follow 
the  cook  we  will  come  by  nothing. 
Let  him  go,  and  wait." 

That  day  we  saw  nothing,  nor  heard 
anything.  The  next  day  a  note  written 
in  Burmese  was  brought  to  me.  It 
was  from  Taunla,  and  stated  that  if  I 
would  go  alone  at  midnight  to  the 
Temple  Hill  I  would  hear  the  call  of 
the  king  pigeon.  If  I  answered,  it 
would  call  again,  and  so  going, 
answering  and  listening,  I  would  come 
to  one  who  would  give  me  the  stolen 
box,  with  its  contents,  in  exchange 
for  two  hundred  rupees.  If  I  did  not 
come  alone,  I  would  not  hear  the  bird 
call,  and  would  see  nothing.  Also  if 
the  black  police  came  with  me  they 
would  attain  to  Nirvana,  for  most  un- 
doubtedly they  would  be  shot. 

"He's  a  cool  chap,"  Dan  volun- 
teered when  I  had  finished  reading  the 
note. 

"Can't  we  hide  at  the  temple,  Emir 
AUi,"  I  asked,  "  and  bag  this  cheeky 
sweep?" 

"  No,  Sahib,"  my  servant  answered, 
"there  will  be  spies  watching  the  road 
to  the  pagoda.  But  this  is  the  way, 
Sahib.  Taunla  is  not  a  jungle  dweller; 
even  now  he  will  be  at  some  village. 
The  villagers  would  not  dare  to  speak 
of  his  being  with  them;  also  he  will 
give  them  opium.  The  hill  where  are 
the  cave  temples  is  two  hours  from 
here,  and  one  hour  from  there  is  the 
village  of  Mybo,  and  that  is  the  home 
of  the  cook.  Therefore  Taunla  will 
be  at  Mybo." 

"  We  would  better  go  right  away 
and  take  him,"  I  c^ied  eagerly. 

"  No,  Sahib.  Taunla  will  come  to 
the  temple  to-night.  I  will  ask  of  the 
cook  about  the  path  to  the   cave  hill. 


and  he  will  think  you  are  going  there. 
Then  to-night  we  will  all  go  to  sleep, 
and  the  cook  will  go  away  to  his  vil- 
lage and  tell  Taunla.  When  it  is  near 
midnight,  we  will  take  the  police  and 
go  by  another  road  to  Mybo,  and  wait 
in  the  jungle  till  Taunla  is  going  back 
to  the  village." 

That  night  we  followed  out  Emir 
Alli's  plan,  and  about  eleven  o'clock 
slipped  from  our  bungalow  so  quietly 
that  no  one  knew.  In  two  hours  of 
the  jungle  path  Emir  AUi  stopped  us; 
we  were  near  to  the  big  rice  fields, 
now  in  stubble,  that  lay  between  us 
and  Mybo.  There  were  two  paths 
from  the  rendezvous  the  dacoit  had 
named,  and  we  split  our  forces.  Dan 
and  two  police  would  guard  one, 
while  Emir  AUi,  a  Punjabi  policeman 
and  I  myself  watched  the  other. 

Once  I  had  suggested  to  Emir  AUi 
that  we  wait  in  the  village  for  the  da- 
coit's  home-coming,  but  he  answered 
that  the  pariah  dogs  would  do  nothing 
but  howl  while  we  were  there,  because 
of  their  dread  of  the  sahibs,  and  Taunla 
would  know. 

We  took  our  places  just  a  little  in 
the  jungle,  and  waited  quietly  beside 
the  footpath. 

"Taunla  would  wait  an  hour  at  the 
Temple  for  the  Sahib,"  Emir  AUi  said; 
"then  he  will  sleep  a  little  in  the  jun- 
gle, and  w  ill  come  to  Mybo  at  daylight. 
He  will  not  come  in  the  dark  for  fear 
of  a  trap.  He  will  watch  the  village 
from  the  edge  of  the  jungle  for  an 
hour,  and  will  know,  because  of  the 
dogs  and  whether  the  children  are  at 
play,  if  there  is  a  sahib  there  in  hid- 
ing." 

In  spite  of  my  servant's  reasoning, 
we  sat  through  the  hours  of  darkness 
alert,  rifles  in  hand. 

All  the  dwellers  of  the  jungle  discov- 
ered our  presence.  Incessant,  stealthy 
noises  came  to  my  ear  as  I  sat 
cramped  and  uncomfortable.  Creep, 
creep,  creep,  the  stealing  footstep  of 
some  curious  animal,  then  a  startled 
gasp,  a  scurry  through  the  leaves 
burned  to  crispness  by  the  hot  days  of 
the  dry  time,  as  a  jackal  or  a  barking 
deer  or  a  wild  boar,  or  perhaps  even  a 


512 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


cheetah,  fled  in  haste  from  the  discon- 
certing discovery  of  the  presence  of 
humans. 

My  watch  was  the  experience  of 
Tantalus;  the  biting  red  ants  foraged 
up  my  legs;  the  small  green  flies,  that 
scorch  where  they  touch,  sought  to 
home  in  my  eyes  and  ears;  and  all  the 
time  the  ever-present  thought  of  a 
cobra  or  his  silent,  vicious  compatriot, 
the  red-eyed  kharite,  might  seek  the 
comforting  warmth  of  my  body  as  I 
lay,  wedded  to  stillness,  in  his  jungle 
home.  The  stalking  of  Taunla  was 
undesirable  sport. 

Gradually  through  the  thick  jungle 
crept  a  warning  ot  approaching  light. 
The  darkness  seemed  to  vibrate  trem- 
blingly as  if  it  gathered  its  black  skirts 
for  flight.  A  jungle  cock  sent  forth 
his  shrill  clarion  three  times,  and  from 
a  tall  Cottonwood  a  hornbill  screeched 
back  harshly. 

Suddenly  turmoil  came  to  us  from 
Dan's  station;  there  were  cries  of  dis- 
order, a  policeman's  challenge,  a  ring- 
ing shot.     We  sprang  to  our  feet. 

"Taunla!"  Emir  Alii  ejaculated. 
"Come  quickly.  Sahib!"  And  down 
the  jungle  path  we  sped  with  swiftness. 

For  a  hundred  yards  1  raced  at 
Emir  Alli's  heels,  when,  suddenly  tak- 
ing a  sharp  kink  that  was  in  the  foot- 
path, we  smashed  into  the  forms  of 
men  running  in  the  opposite  direction. 

The  collision  was  fierce — Emir  AUi 
was  swept  to  one  side  like  a  reed,  and 
something  of  weight  crashed  into  me, 
carr}ing  me  to  earth,  and  hurling  my 
gun  ten  feet  into  the  jungle.  The 
something  was  my  own  cash  box. 

Springing  to  my  feet,  I  saw  the  up- 
ward cut  of  a  dah,  and  just  in  lime 
Emir  Alii  threw  himself  like  a  tiger 
upon  the  man. 

The  Punjabi  went  down  in  a  crumb- 
led heap  from  a  cut  over  the  head.  I 
saw  his  assailant  was  Taunla. 

Then  without  looking  back,  with  no 
word  of  regret  to  the  fallen  Punjabi,  the 
nimble  dacoit  sped  toward  the  village. 

I  followed,  pulling  my  revolver  from 
the  holster  as  I  ran,  and  shouting 
back  to  Emir  Alii,  "  Stay  with  the 
cash  box!"     On  by  the  winding  path, 


catching  tantalising  glimpses  of  the 
robber,  past  where  he  had  rested 
through  the  night,  out  trom  the  forest 
cover  into  a  thicket  of  elephant  grass 
and  swamp  bush  I  chased. 

Taunla  was  heading  for  the  paddy- 
fields,  and  inwardly  1  surmised  that  I 
had  him.  I  could  outrun  any  Burman 
in  the  open,  I  knew.  Taunla's  gun, 
like  my  own,  had  tumbled  in  the  col- 
lision, and  my  revolver  was  more  than 
a  match  for  his  dah. 

Almost  cheerfully  I  swung  along, 
letting  Taunla  race  a  little  to  the  front, 
nursing  my  speed  for  the  half  mile  of 
open  course  that  was  the  paddy-fields. 

Taunla  had  switched  to  the  right;  I 
caught  glimpses  of  his  brilliant  putsoe 
flickering  through  the  thick  bushes. 
Why  was  he  not  heading  for  the  vil- 
lage, which  was  to  the  left? 

Presently  this  little  eccentricity  of 
the  dacoit's  was  explained  to  me.  The 
path  we  followed  ran  through  a  mire, 
thick  bushes  on  either  side,  and  tor- 
tuous as  a  corkscrew. 

As  I  took  one  of  the  sharp  turns, 
my  eyes  straight  ahead  in  quest  of  the 
fleeing  one,  my  legs  struck  into  some- 
thing that  moved  ponderously  upward. 
And  because  of  this  impediment  I 
dove  head  first  into  the  mud  and  water. 

As  I  scrambled  to  my  feet  I  saw  it 
was  a  water  buffalo.  Pig-like  in  his 
habits,  he  had  been  sleeping  in  the 
cooling  mud.  Other  huge  elephantine 
forms  were  looming  all  about  me, 
uttering  plaintive  little  grunts  of  dis- 
approbation. 

Twenty  yards  farther  and  I  shot 
suddenly  out  into  the  paddy-fields, 
only  to  see,  with  a  thrill  of  dismay,  a 
rim  of  buffalo,  standing  fan  like,  their 
heads  toward  me.  And  beyond,  hav- 
ing slipped  through  between  them,  the 
figure  of  Taunla,  his  brown  eyes  twink- 
ling derisively  as  they  carried  him  over 
the  tawny  field  of  cropped  rice  straw. 

The  situation  flashed  upon  me  with 
instantaneous  brevity.  These  half- 
wild  creatures,  familiar  with  the 
natives,  had  taken  no  notice  of  the 
Burman,  but  the  scent  of  the  white 
man  was  as  the  scent  of  a  tiger  in  their 
nostrils. 


SEA-DRIFT 


513 


Behind  me  from  the  marsh  the  buf- 
falo were  coming  in  another  solid 
body.  Well  I  knew  that  little  squeal 
that  was  of  anger  and  meant  danger. 

As  I  stood  for  an  instant,  irresolute, 
not  knowing  which  way  to  turn,  the 
mocking  voice  of  Taunla  carried  back 
to  me  on  the  still  morning  air,  crying, 
"  Chico,  ThakineT  (My  regards,  your 
Honour). 

I  did  not  answer  him;  I  had  more 
pressing  business  in  hand.  If  I  fal- 
tered, if  I  ran,  I  should  be  overtaken, 
and  the  long,  needle-pointed  horns 
would  pierce  me  like  the  thrust  of 
many  spears.  To  stand  my  ground 
was  but  putting  off  the  moment  of 
destruction.  Not  even  the  jungle 
king,  the  tiger,  faces  a  water  buffalo 
when  he  is  aroused. 

The  bulls  were  pawing  the  earth, 
shaking  their  heads,  and  their  small, 
vicious  pig-eyes  flashed  lurid  and  red 
in  angry  distrust.  There  was  one 
possible  chance  of  escape — if  I  could 
break  the  line.  Their  hostility  had  its 
origin  in  fear — fear  of  the  strange 
creature,  the  white  man  with  his  un- 
familiar scent.  It  was  a  great  hazard, 
but  the  only  chance  remaining;  in  two 
seconds  it  might  be  too  late — the  line 
of  buffalo  coming  up  from  the  swamp 
was  not  fifty  feet  away. 

Taking  my  big  white  hat  in  my  left 
hand,  I  swung  it  about  my  head,  and 


firing  my  revolver  and  yelling  like  an 
Indian,  I  charged  back  at  the  mob  of 
buffalo  fringing  the  swamp. 

For  a  second  the  line  held;  then  the 
buffalo  in  the  centre  wavered,  snorted 
and  swerved  sideways;  the  others  gave 
way,  and  a  stampede  began.  Like 
two  great  wings,  the  mud-plastered 
brutes  swept  by  me,  breaking  into  a 
run,  and  thundered  over  the  paddy- 
fields,  their  huge  hoofs  beating  the 
sun-burned  earth  until  the  air  palpi- 
tated with  the  sound  as  of  drums. 

Even  Taunla  might  be  ground  to 
powder  in  that  rush  if  once  overtaken. 
Breathless,  I  stood  watching  the  blue- 
black  line,  an  undulating  engine  of 
death,  sweeping  resistlessly  onward, 
behind  the  clever  budmash  that  had 
led  me  to  their  favourite  haunt, 
knowing  that  they  would  take  me  in 
hand. 

Then  I  turned  and  hastened  back 
toward  the  scene  of  the  meeting  in  the 
narrow  path.  I  found  Dan  and  his 
party  there,  and,  in  custody,  the  cook. 
It  was  he,  hastening  from  the  village 
in  the  early  dawn,  that  had  started  the 
uproar  in  their  camp. 

And  Emir  Alii  and  my  Punjabi  had 
captured  Taunla's  companion.  The 
morning's  shikarri  had  netted  us  the 
cook,  a  dacoit,  and  my  papers  recov- 
ered without  ransom. 

Taunla  had  escaped. 


SEA-DRIFT 


BY    INGLIS    MORSE 

/^FT  have  I  wandered  by  the  sea 

While  the  stars  rose  o'er  the  night. 
And  my  soul  caught  up  the  song 
Of  the  years  that  rolled  in  flight. 
Then  from  afar  o'er  the  Sea  of  Time 
Come  the  drift  of  weed  and  shell, 
And  a  thousand  mystic  memories 
Born  of  the  sea- waves'  spell. 


ROBERTS  AND  THE   INFLUENCES  OF 

HIS  TIME 

By  JAMES  CAP  PON,  Professor  of  English,   Queen's   University 


VI— POETRY  OF  THE  CITY.   NEW 

YORK  NOCTURNES.   EROTIC 

POEMS.  THE  ROSE  OF  LIFE. 

CONCLUSION 

jN  1896,  or  thereabouts,  Mr. 
Roberts  resigned  his  Pro- 
fessor's chair  at  King's 
College,  Nova  Scotia,  and 
went  to  New  York  to  push 
his  literary  career  there.  Years  before, 
indeed,  in  one  of  his  poems,  "The 
Poet  B'dden  to  Manhattan  Island,"  he 
had  hinted  he  might  have  to  leave  a 
country  which  was  too  poor  to  pay  its 
authors,  at    least  its  poets,  suitably  : 

You've  piped  at  home,  where  none  could  pay, 
Till  now,  I  trust,  your  wits  are  riper. 

Make  no  delay,  but  come  this  way, 
And  pipe  for  them  that  pay  the  piper! 

Possibly  the  reasons  for  the  migra- 
tion of  our  Canadian  poet  lay  deeper. 
In  a  more  tranquil  age  he  might  have 
been  content  to  go  on  writing  Cana- 
dian lyrics  and  idylls  and  drawing  the 
modest  academic  salary;  and  who 
knows  but  someday  that  ardent,  aspir- 
ing genius  of  his  which  has  tried  so 
many  forms  might  at  last  have  found 
a  supreme  one  and  produced  an  im- 
mortal song?  But  the  fever  of  the 
time  has  got  into  the  blood  of  our 
literary  men.  The  immense,  cheap 
successes  of  the  popular  novel  and 
play  and  the  opulence  of  the  success- 
ful journalist  in  the  great  cities  have 
unsettled  them.  They  seek  the  sup- 
port of  professional  circles  and  syndi- 
cates, of  patriotic  associations  and 
popular  fashions;  above  all,  they  seek 
the  support  of  an  atmosphere  which 
has  a  certain  stimulating  effect  on 
their  faculties,  mainly  in  the  direction, 
I  think,  of  forcing  a  more  rapid  adjust- 
ment of  their  powers  to  the  calls  of  the 
day  and  the  hour.  Spenser  might 
write  his  great  ideal  song  in  the  Irish 
wilds  of  Kilcolman,  but  our  character- 
istic   modern    works    with    their    near 


actuality  of  theme,  the  poetry  of  Hen- 
ley, the  comedies  and  literary  criticism 
of  Howells,  the  stories  of  Harding, 
come  from  men  who  breathe  the  atmos- 
phere of  our  great  cities.  Their  writ- 
ings reflect  the  quickly  passing  spirit 
of  the  time,  often  of  the  hour,  in  which 
they  live,  and  their  material  is  of  a 
raw  kind,  hard  to  transform  into  the 
highest  moulds  of  art,  because  it  con- 
sists of  types  and  a  social  environment 
which  they  can  hardly  yet  feel,  any 
more  than  Jane  Austen  did  in  her  nov- 
els, in  their  full  and  pathetic  signifi- 
cance. Even  Thackeray's  strongest 
figures,  his  Colonel  Newcomes  and 
Rawdon  Crawleys  and  his  wonderful 
journalists,  were  reminiscences  with  a 
soft  shading  of  the  past  about  them, 
rather  than  mere  transcripts  of  the 
passing  day.  But  that  is  by  the  way, 
though  it  is  not  without  its  bearing  on 
the  new  "poetry  of  the  city"  which  Mr. 
Arthur  Symons  declares  is  the  true 
form  of  poetry  "which  professes  to  be 
modern." 

Mr.  Roberts  did  not  use  to  have  so 
high  an  opinion  of  the  "  heedless 
throngs  and  traffic  of  cities "  as  he 
describes  them  in  one  of  his  poems, 
but  like  every  one  else  he  feels  the  set 
of  the  tide  in  these  days.  Accordingly 
his  New  York  Nocturnes,  the  latest  of 
the  collections  in  this  one  volume  edi- 
tion, is  a  contribution  to  this  "poetry 
of  the  city." 

The  romance  of  New  York  at  night, 
the  nocturnal  brilliancy  of  its  lighted 
pavements,  the  endless  tide  of  move- 
ment, the  fascinating  privacy  of  its 
crowds,  Mr.  Roberts  has  come  to 
think  that  there  is  poetry  there  as  well 
as  in  the  vale  of  Tempe  and  Canadian 
forest  clearings.  So  there  is,  though 
the  characteristic  quality  and  aroma 
of  it  may  be  another  matter.  He  does 
not,  however,  attempt  to  treat  the 
subject  with  the  breadth  and  boldness 


ROBERTS  AND  THE  INFLUENCES  OF  HIS  TIME 


D'a 


of  Mr.  Henley's  London  Voluntaries, 
where  the  English  poet  struggles  hard 
to  render  in  the  freest  and  most  adapt- 
able form  of  verse  the  elemental  vig- 
our and  movement  of  city  life, 

This  insolent  and  comely  stream 
Of  appetence,  this  freshet  of  desire. 

Mr.  Roberts  does,  however,  give  us 
some  vivid  impressioni^tic  pictures  of 
city  phenomena  at  night: 

Above  the  vanishing^  faces 

A.  phantom  train  fares  on 
With  a  voice  that  shakes  the  shadows, — 

Diminishes,  and  is  ^one. 

But  there  is  less  of  this  kind  of  work 
in  the  New  York  Nocturnes  than  one 
might  have  expected  from  a  hand  so 
deft  with  the  impressionistic  brush  in 
other  regions.  The  fact  is,  that  in 
these  poems  the  poet  has  begun  to 
gravitate  in  another  direction,  towards 
the  sentimental  and  erotic  poetry  of 
the  Rossetti  school.  That  is  the  form 
in  which  he  now  seeks  to  escape  from 
the  moral  commonplace  which  holds 
us  all  in  its  clutches.  The  roar  of 
Broadway  at  night,  the  thunder  of  the 
elevated  railway  and  the  glare  ai  light 
at  the  railway  station,  are  but  the  en- 
vironment of  *'  Me  and  Thee,"  of  a 
passion  that  expresses  itself  with  all 
the  warm  abandonment  of  the  poet  of 
the  Religion  of  Beauty: 

The  street  is  full  of  lights  and  cries. 
The  crowd  but  brings  thee  close  to  me. 
only  hear  thv  low  replies; 
I  only  see  thine  eyes. 

That  is  an  epitome  of  the  New  York 
Nocturnes.  It  is  a  new  Laura,  whose 
phantom-like  existence  in  the  back- 
ground of  these  poems  is  the  artistic 
support  for  the  poet's  fancy,  a  Laura 
not  enshrined  as  once  by  the  running 
streams  and  woods,  and  the  aer  sacro 
serene  of  V^alclusa,  but  met  amidst  the 
hurrying  throngs  of  Sixth  Avenue  or 
trysting  at  the  New  York  Central  Sta- 
tion. ' 

The  poetry  of  New  York  Nocturnes 
marks  the  beginning  of  a  change  in  Mr. 
Roberts  which  amounts  almost  to  an 
entire  transformation  of  his  literary  or 
poetic  ideals.  One  whole  phase  of  his 
poetic  career  has  come  to  an  end,  and 
he  is  to  live,  at  any  rate  he  is  to  write, 


less  under  those  old  influences  which 
emanated  from  Rydal  Mount  and  Con- 
cord and  other  sacred  seats  of  the 
Muses,  and  more  under  those  of  our 
new  literary,  democratic  Bohemia  rep- 
resented by  poets  like  Mr.  Henley, 
who  sings  of  London  crowds,  and  has 
transferred  Pan  from  Mount  Maenalus 
to  Piccadilly.  The  poetry  of  Actceon 
and  the  Sonnet  Sequence  and  The  Book 
of  the  Native  belonged  essentially  in 
its  spirit  and  its  form  to  the  great  or- 
thodox traditional  schools  of  the  nine- 
teenth century.  It  had  all  the  rever- 
ence and  decorum  of  priestly  and  pro- 
phetic utterance,  it  was  full  of  chaste 
reticence  and  high  conventions.  The 
new  poetry  of  the  Nocturnes  and  The 
Rose  of  Life  is  the  poetry  of  an  age 
which  is  filled  with  the  desire  of  life 
and  eager  to  gratify  every  sense,  an 
age  which  has  given  up  the  pale  doc- 
trine of  self-suppression.  It  was  only 
the  other  day  Mr.  Swinburne  was  sing- 
ing its  song  of  triumph  in  Harper's 
Monthly,  and  congratulating  it  on  hav- 
ing escaped  from  the  shadow  of  that 
dread  God  of  the  Hebrews: 

The  dark  old  God  who  had  slain  him  grew 

one  with  the  Christ  he  slew. 
And  poison  was  rank  in  the  grain  that  with 

growth  of  his  Gospel  grew. 
And    the    blackness  of  darkness  brightened, 

and  red  in  the  heart  of  the  flame. 
Shone  down  as  a  blessing  that    lightened, 

the  curse  of  a  new  God's  name. 
Through  centuries  of  burning  and  trembling 

belief  as  a  signal  it  shone 
Till  man,  soul  sick  of  dissembling,  bade  fear 

and  her  frauds  begone. 

The  song  of  the  day  of  thy  fury  when  nature 

and  death  shall  quail. 
Rings  nowas  the  thunders  of  Jewry,  the  ghost 

of  a  dead  world's  tale. 

That  way  of  looking  at  the  history 
of  mankind,  through  the  blood-shot 
eyes  of  a  Maenad,  one  might  say,  is 
surely  not  a  very  wise  one.  If  the 
white  man's  civilisation  means  any- 
thing we  can  be  proud  of,  it  means 
that  he  has  not  only  kept  clear  of 
deifying  the  orgiastic  instinct  in  human 
nature,  but  that  on  the  whole  he  has 
not  imposed  greater  restrictions  on  his 
life  than  were  good  for  him  at  the  time, 
or  used  stronger  sanctions  than  were 
necessary  to  enforce  them.     So  far  as 


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THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


he  tended  in  the  past  to  raise  altars 
either  to  Moloch  or  to  the  Pandemian 
Venus,  it  was  the  worship  of  the  "  dark 
old  God  of  the  Hebrews  "  mainly  that 
suppressed  the  tendency.  The  tempor- 
ary tyranny  of  sects  and  hierarchies 
has  little  to  do  with  the  fundamental 
aspects  of  the  matter.  You  cannot 
read  man's  history  profitably  as  that 
of  a  nigger  escaped  from  the  lash,  nor 
celebrate  it  wisely  with  Phrygian  tim- 
brels; no,  not  even  if  you  have  the  ear 
of  an  Apollo  for  lyrical  melody. 


Naturally  one  of  the  notes  to  make 
itself  more  clearly  heard  in  the  new 
poetry  is  the  erotic  one  which  Rossetti, 
then  singing  in  the  colder  atmosphere 
of  another  generation,  introduced,  in  a 
delicate,  mystic  Dantean  form,  into 
English  poetry.  This  is  the  dominant 
note  in  Roberts'  latest  volume,  The 
Rose  of  Life.  The  erotic  poetry  of 
that  volume  has  something  of  the  deli- 
cate reserve  which  characterises  the 
vein  of  Rossetti,  and  it  combined,  in 
much  the  same  way  as  he  does,  aes- 
thetic self-abandonment  with  the  mys- 
tic idealism  of  the  Vita  Nuova.  To 
look  on  the  beloved  one  is  to  under- 
stand the  secret  of  the  universe,  "the 
meaning  of  all  things  that  are."  * 
Mr.  Roberts  makes  use  of  this  sen- 
timent with  characteristic  vigour  : 

The  world  becomes  a  little  thing; 
Art,  travel,  music,  men 
And  all  that  these  can  ever  give 
Are  in  her  brow's  white  ken. 

Sometimes,  indeed,  he  uses  it  with 
more  vigour  than  delicacy  : 

How  little  I  knew,  when  I  first  saw  you, 
And  you<-  eyes  for  a  monient  questioned  mine, 
It  amounted  to  this — that  the  dawn  and  the 

dew, 
The  midnight's  dark  and  the  midmoon's  shine, 
The  awe  of  the  silent,  soaring  peak. 
The  harebell's  hue  and  the  cloud  in  the  blue. 
And  all  the  beauty  I  sing  and  seek, 
Would  come  to  mean — ^just  you! 

There  is  something  of  the  reckless- 
ness of  the  improvisatore  in  that  as- 
sembly of  images. 

*  Rossetti  ;  The  House  of  Life,  Sonnet 
XXVH. 


This  mystical  element,  however, 
which  comes  all  the  way  from  Dante 
and  the  Italian  sonneteers  of  the  14th 
century,  is  frequently  steeped  by  the 
modern  poet  in  a  warmer  atmosphere 
of  sense-impression  than  was  the  cus- 
tom with  the  poet  of  the  Viia  Nuova 
at  least.  Roberts'  Altar  has  the  full 
red  of  the  erotic  chord: 

The  pulses  of  your  throat 

What  madness  they  denote  to  me, — 
Passion,  and  hunger,  and  tlespair. 

And  ecslacy  and  prayer  to  me  ! 

The  dark  bloom  of  your  flesh 

Is  as  a  magic  mesh  to  me, 
Wherein  our  spirits  lie  ensnared, 

Your  wild,  wild  beauty  bared  to  me. 

Indeed,  there  is  the  same  ethical 
variety  or  heterogeneity  in  Roberts' 
new  erotic  vein  as  there  is  in  his 
other  poetry.  In  the  poem  which 
gives  its  title  to  this  volume.  The  Rose 
of  Life,  the  sentiment  has  the  peculiar 
bitter  savour  which  you  find  in  Beau- 
delaire  or  Swinburne. 

The  Rose  asks  "Why  am  I  sad?" 
that  is,  what  is  the  meaning  of  this 
infinite  sadness  and  subtlety  in  Desire? 
And  a  Wmd,  "older  than  Time"  and 
"wiser  than  Sleep,"  replies: 

The  cries  of  a  thousand  lovers, 

A  thousand  slain, 

The  tears  of  all  the  forgotten 

Who  kissed  in  vain. 

And  the  journeying  years  that  have  vanished 

Have  lelt  on  you 

The  witness,  each,  of  its  pain, 

Ancient,  yet  new. 

So  many  lives  you  have  lived  ; 

So  many  a  star 

Hath  veered  in  the  signs  to  make  you 

The  wonder  you  are  ! 

And  this  is  the  price  of  your  beauty  : 

Your  wild  soul  is  thronged 

With  the  phantoms  of  joy  unfulfilled. 

That  beauty  hath  wronged, 

With  the  pangs  of  all  secret  betrayals. 

The  ghosts  of  desire. 

The  bite  of  old  flame,  and  the  chill 

Of  the  ashes  of  fire. 

Something  of  the  livid  vein  of 
Beaudelaire  has  begun  to  tinge  the 
the  bright  red  of  Rossetti  there.  There 
is  a  perceptible  odour  of  those  poison- 
flowers  of  the  French  poet  which  bloom 
only  in  charnel-houses  and  have  the 
scent  of  death  about  them.     The  poem 


ROBERTS  AND  THE  INFLUENCES  OF  HIS  TIME 


517 


would  read  impressively  as  a  charac- 
terisation of  some  type  of  beauty  like 
Swinburne's  Faustine.  There  is  a 
kinship  in  the  thought  of  the  two 
poems  as  well  as  in  certain  subtleties 
of  style  and  rhythm: 

For  in  the  time  we  know  not  of 

Did  fate  be^in 
Weaving  the  web  of  days  that  wove 

Your  doom,  Faustine? 


The  poetry  of  Roberts'  last  volume 
seems  to  take  us  a  long  way  from  the 
poet  of  "The  Songs  of  the  Common 
Day"  and  "The  Book  of  the  Native," 
with  their  sober  Wordsworthian  tones 
and  pious  sublimities.  But  we  need 
not  mistake.  It  is  only  a  canter  which 
Roberts,  the  artist,  is  taking  into  that 
region  of 
Fierce  loves  and  lovely  leaf-buds  poisonous. 

No  doubt,  the  change  of  note  denotes 
some  change  of  intellectual  centre  in 
the  artist's  life  and  some  liberation  of 
sentiment  due  to  a  change  in  his  cir- 
cumstances. But  the  very  variety  of 
ethical  tone  in  Roberts  shows  how 
much  poetry  is  to  him  a  matter  of 
art,  rather  than  the  deep,  essential  dis- 
tillation of  his  life,  the  concentrated 
essence  of  it  from  which  everything 
secondary  and  derivative  is  excluded 
as  valueless.  The  title  of  one  of  his 
volumes,  "  In  Divers  Tones,"  might 
be  written  over  them  all.  The  moral 
impulse  toward  song  which  is  so  pure 
and  unisonant  in  the  poetry  of  a  Long- 
fellow and  a  Wordsworth,  for  example, 
and  for  that  matter  in  a  Rossetti  and 
Beaudelaire  also,  is  capable  of  assum- 
ing any  shape  in  Roberts  with  the 
greatest  facility.  Sometimes  it  is  a 
Wordsworthian  moral  that  inspires 
him  as  in  the  sonnet.  Where  the  Cattle 
Come  to  Drink: 

A  lesson  of  the  calm  of  humble  creed, 

The  simple  dignity  of  common  toil 

And  the  plain  wisdom  of  unspoken  prayer. 

Sometimes  it  is  the  call  of  Tennyson- 
ian  lyrical  sentiment  and  melody : 

Oh,  clear  in  the  sphere  of  the  air, 
Clear,  clear,  tender  and  far. 


Sometimes  it  is  the  blood-red  glare 
of  Swinburne's  vision  and  his  fiercely 
urged  phrase,  as  in  Khartoum: 

Set  in  the  fierce  red  desert  for  a  sword 
Drawn  and  deep-driven  implacably!  The  tide 
Of  scorching  sand  that  chafes  thy  landward 

side 
Storming  thy  palms. 

Sometimes  it  is  Rossetti's  imagina- 
tive self-abandonment  to  dream  and 
desire,  as  in  A   Nocturne  of  Trysting: 

And  life  and  hope  and  joy  seem  but  a  faint 

prevision 
Of  the  flower  that  is  thy  body  and  the  flame 

that  is  thy  soul. 

Or  it  is  the  solemn,  religious  strain 
of  Ascription: 

O  thou  who  hast  beneath  thy  band. 

Or  it  is  a  note  from  Browning,  or  it 
is  still  surviving  in  his  muse,  the  lan- 
guor of  Keatsian  reverie.  In  this 
very  volume  of  The  Rose  of  Life,  filled 
as  it  is  with  subtle  perfumes  from  the 
poetry  of  Rossetti  and  Swinburne, 
there  is  also  a  capital  imitation  of 
Kipling's  manner  in  the  poem  called 
The  Stranded  Ship,  which  has  all  the 
swing  of  that  master's  verse  and  his 
healthy  feeling  for  the  romance  of 
modern  adventure: 

No  more  she  mounts  the  circles  from  Fundy 

to  the  Horn. 
From  Cuba  to  the  Cape  runs  down  the  tropic 

morn, 
Explores    the  Vast    Uncharted  where  great 

bergs  ride  in  ranks. 
Nor  shouts  a  broad  "  Ahoy  "  to  the  dories  on 

the  Banks. 

But  that  a  poet  could, even  from  the 
point  of  view  of  mere  art,  write  poems 
of  such  diversity  of  tone,  is  a  striking 
illustration  of  the  curious  breadth  and 
complexity  of  the  spirit  of  our  time. 
It  is  the  old  story  of  the  Renaissance 
over  again,  with  its  desire  to  lay  hold 
of  every  side  of  life,  and  that  mixture 
of  sentiment  which  Browning  has  sat- 
irised in  the  Bishop  of  St.  Praxed's: 

That  bas-relief  in  bronze  ye  promised  me, 
Those  Pans  and  Nymphs  ye  wot  of,  and  per- 
chance 
Some  tripod,  thyrsus,  and  a  vase  or  so, 
The  Saviour  at  his  sermon  on  the  Mount, 
Saint  Praxed  in  a  glory,  and  one  Pan 
Ready  to  twitch  the  Nymph's  last  garment 

off. 
And  Moses  with  the  tables. 


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THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


But  our  more  self-conscious  age 
cannot  attain  to  such  breadth  without 
feeling  the  moral  contrarieties  there 
are  to  dispose  ot. 

There  are  samples,  also,  of  our  old 
friend,  the  cosmic  process  in  poetry,  in 
this  volume,  and  a  psychological  poem 
On  the  Upper  Deck,  which  leaves  a 
somewhat  faint  impression  on  the 
mind  as  of  a  Gibson  young  man  and 
woman  playing  at  poetry  and  Brown- 
ing. Some  light  lyrics  in  Part  II  are 
amongst  the  best  things  in  the  book. 
Shepherdess  Fair,  for  example,  covers  a 
fine  gravity  and  truth  of  feeling  under 
a  light  play  of  fancy: 

O  shepherdess  brown,  O  shepherdess  fair, 
Where  are  my  flocks  you  have  in  care? 
My  woiiderlul,  white,  wide-pasturii)g  sheep 
Of  dream  and  desire  and  tears  and  sleep. 
Many  the  flocks,  but  smill  the  care 
You  give  to  their  keeping,  O  shepherdess  fair! 

O  shepherdess  gay,  your  flocks  have  fed 
By  the  iris  pool,  by  the  saff"ron  bed. 
Till  now  by  noon  they  have  wandered  far, 
And  you  have  forgotten  where  they  are! 

O  shepherdess  fair,  O  shepherdess  wild. 
Full  wise  are  your  flocks,  but  you  a  child! 

You  shall  not  be  chid  if  you  let  them  stray 
In  your  own  wild  way,  in  your  own  child  way. 
You  will  call  them  all  back  at  the  close  of  day. 

Large  brain  and  soul,  and  many- 
hued  web  of  thought,  dream  and  de- 
sire, all  in  the  keeping  of  sweet  and 
twenty,  who  is  distractingly  naive — a 
fancy  worthy  of  Htine,  and  set  to 
words  which  have  something  of  his 
charm  without  his  bitterness. 

As  one  may  see  from  that  last  poem, 
Roberts  has  a  true  gift  for  lyrical  verse. 
Nothing  he  writes  in  that  way  is  ever 
wanting  in  vigour  and  natural  freedom 
of  movement.  He  has  not  the  same 
command  of  the  high  and  more  sedate 
harmonies  of  blank  verse.  That  is  a 
great  and  treacherously  smooth  sea  in 
which,  if  he  does  not  quite  sink,  he 
soon  begins  to  show  a  jaded  and  me- 
chanical action.  Monotony,  unmean- 
ing emphasis,  solemnly  factitious 
pauses,  forced  rushes  of  melody, 
cadences  abruptly  quenched  in  the 
sand-flats  of  the  next  line,  these  are 
the  penalties  for  him  who  ventures 
over-boldly.      But  in  lyrical  measures, 


and  especially  in  light  movements, 
Roberts'  verse  has  admirable  qualities, 
truth  of  accent,  spontaneity  and  vigour 
of  movement,  the  nobler  elements  in 
metrical  art.  He  has  nothing  of  the 
smooth  and  subtle  workmanship  which 
is  the  pride  of  the  modern  aesthetic 
school.  He  may  at  times  have  a 
Tennysonian  smoothness  of  effect  but 
it  is  not  a  native  quality  of  his  verse. 
It  is  noticeable,  hov\ever,  that  in  his 
last  volume  the  moulds  of  his  verse 
are  fresher  and  more  modern  than  the 
old  ones  which  he  learned  in  the  school 
of  Tennyson  and  Longfellow.  There 
is  more  freedom  in  the  new  metrical 
moulds  and  a  cunning  use  of  iterations 
and  disguised  refrains  which  in  such 
clever  hands  gives  an  ear-haunting 
quality  to  the  verse. 

On  the  whole  this  new  volume  shows 
a  certain  novelty  of  tone  and  treatment 
and  a  tendency  to  introduce  more 
rounded  and  concrete  shapes  of  life 
into  his  poetry  which  may  have  con- 
siderable significance  for  the  poet's 
future.  Perhaps  our  best  Canadian 
poets  have  dc^voted  themselves  too 
much  to  an  almost  abstract  form  of 
nature  poetry  which  has  too  little  sa- 
vour of  the  national  life  and  the  national 
sentiment  about  it  and  is  more  depend- 
ent on  literary  tradition  than  they  seem 
to  be  aware  of.  Mr.  Drummond  with 
his  Habitant  idylls  is  of  course  a  not- 
able exception,  and  the  success  they 
have  met  with  shows  what  a  ready 
public  after  all  there  always  is  for  a  true 
and  lively  presentation  of  life.  It  may 
be  said  that  the  vehicle  which  he  uses, 
the  broken  English  of  Jean  Baptiste, 
can  hardly  be  considered  a  classical 
form  for  the  expression  of  French- 
Canadian  character: 

Yes — yes — Pelang,  mon  cher  gar^on  ! 

I  t'ink  of  you.  t'ink  of  you,  niglit  an'  day, 
Don't  mak'  no  difference  seems  to  me 

How  long  de  tarn  you  was  gone  away. 

After  all  it  is  hard  for  a  French- 
Canadian  to  get  over  the  fact  that  the 
language  in  which  Marie  really  thinks 
of  her  Pelang  is  not  that  but  some- 
thing nearer  the  sweet  note  of  La 
Claire  Fontaine.  Truly  it  was  a  differ- 
ent   ideal    which    that    finely   cultured 


ROBERTS  AND  THE  INFLUENCES  OF  HIS  TIME 


519 


school  of  French-Canadian  writers, 
Cr^mazie,  Frechette,  Gerin-Lajoie  and 
others,  old  now  or  passed  away,  had 
formed  for  the  presentation  of  the 
habitanCc  life  and  ways  in  Les  Soirees 
Canadiennes  of  forty  years  ago.  Prose 
of  Bernardin  de  Saint  Pierre  and  verse 
modelled  on  Lamartine  and  the  early 
Hugo,  where  be  ye  now  ?  Yet  a  touch 
of  nature  is  worth  all  the  culture  in  the 
world  for  popular  poetry,  and  one  has 
only  to  see  an  Ontario  audience  listen- 
ing to  Dr.  Drummond's  simple  but 
effective  way  of  reciting  his  poems  to 
understand  that,  for  the  English  Cana- 
dian at  least,  that  language  has  the 
stamp  of  reality  and  carries  with  it  a 
true  suggestion  of  the  habitant's  life 
and  character.  In  its  way,  therefore, 
it  is  a  living  language,  and  may  be 
classed  with  the  German- English  of 
Hans  Breitmann  and  the  Chicago- Irish 
of  M»-.  Dooley  as  an  artistic  form  of 
one  of  those  new  vernaculars  which 
have  arisen  in  the  widely  spread  terri- 
tories of  the  Anglo-Saxon  race. 


The  true  Canadian  poet  will  be  he 
who  manages  to  get  the  right  materials 
of  Canadian  life  into  his  song  in  such 
a  way  that  all  the  world  may  feel  what 
it  is  that  gives  Canada  character  and 
significance  amongst  nations.  I  do  not 
mean  that  we  need  any  more  heroic 
odes  on  Canada,  or  celebrations  of 
Lundy's  Lane  or  Chrysler's  Farm,  but 
rather  a  kind  of  poetry  which  is  able  to 
present  the  vital  features  of  Canadian 
life  in  ordinary  scenes  and  incidents 
which  we  recognise  with  pride  and  ten- 
derness as  distinctively  national.  It 
all  lies  in  that  "  pride  and  tenderness." 
That  has  always,  of  course,  been  the 
line  of  the  great  popular  or  national 
poet,  and  nothing  less  popular  seems 
capable  of  catching  the  ear  of  the 
democracy  of  our  time.  It  is  not  ab- 
solutely necessary  to  be  dramatic  in 
form  in  order  to  do  this.  The  lyric  or 
descriptive  poet  has  many  means  of 
doing  it.     When  Burns  sings : 

The  boat  rocks  at  the  pier  o'  Leith, 

The  wind  blaws  loud  frae  ower  the  ferry. 


it  is  only  a  farewell  song,  but  it 
twines  into  itself  characteristic  threads 
of  Scottish  life  and  some  memories 
which  are  deep-seated  in  the  hearts  of 
the  poet's  countrymen.  The  Scot  can 
see  that  little  boat  rocking  at  the  wet 
steps  of  the  old  stone  pier  and  hear 
that  cold  northern  blast  whistling 
through  the  rigging  of  the  emigrant 
brig  in  the  roadstead,  and  the  chances 
are  it  minds  him  of  more  than  one 
Willie  or  Tammas  that  he  is  not  like 
to  see  again.  At  least  it  meant  all 
that  to  the  Scot  of  fifty  years  ago,  and 
something  of  the  power  of  its  appeal 
remains  with  us  still.  But  of  course 
it  would  be  vain  for  the  poet  of  On- 
tario or  Nova  Scotia  to  try  and  wake 
those  old  chords  in  the  same  way.  It 
would  even  be  vain  for  him  to  use  that 
language  and  its  cadences,  or  any 
modification  of  that  **  rustic,  hamely 
jingle "  of  old  Scotia  which  was  so 
powerful  an  instrument  in  the  hands 
of  Burns.  The  poetry  of  that  hardy, 
self-taught  Canadian  Scot,  Alexander 
McLachlan,  for  example,  is  sincerely 
enough  felt.  But  though  his  subjects 
are  Canadian  pictures  of  pioneer  farm- 
ing and  the  like,  his  peculiarly  Scotch 
strain,  with  its  pathos,  its  reverence 
and  its  radicalism  all  so  distinctively 
Scotch,  does  not  make  any  universal 
appeal  to  Canadian  readers  except  as 
the  faint  echo  of  an  old  song.  It  can 
never  interpret  the  spirit  and  character 
of  the  modern  democracies  of  to-day. 
It  is  too  pathetically  naive  and  tender 
for  that,  too  much  burdened  with  the 
sense  of  a  past  which  is  no  longer  a 
vital  element  in  the  Canadian  conscious- 
ness. 

At  present,  however,  Mr.  Roberts 
seems  to  have  no  further  thoughts  of 
a  Canadian  idyll,  as  far  as  his  poetry, 
at  least,  is  concerned,  but  to  be  mov- 
ing in  the  different  direction  of  Nero 
York  Nocturnes  and  Rossetti's  Worship 
oj  Beauty.  Bye  and  bye,  I  suppose  we 
shall  have  airs  from  the  New  Mysticism 
of  Miss  Fionna  Macleod  and  the  Cel- 
tic School.  Of  course  there  is  poetry 
enough  to  be  found  in  any  aspect  of 
life.  But  its  true  quality  will  be  ex- 
tracted only  by  him  who  seriously  de- 


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THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


votes  his  life  to  it.      Poetry  which  is  depth  which  true  poetry  ought  to  give 

drawn  from  any  lesser  depth  is  neces-  us,   and  which  some,  at  least,   of  Mr. 

sarily  imitative  in  its  type  and  of  sec-  Roberts'  poetry    is    capable   of  giving 

ondary    value.       Roberts,     like    some  us. 

other  of  our  contemporary  writers.  But  it  is  much  too  soon  to  write 
needs  a  sterner  literary  conscience  and  Finis  in  any  estimate  of  Mr.  Roberts* 
more  respect  for  his  public.  His  work  work.  He  has  the  true  singing  qual- 
belongs  too  much  to  the  region  of  artis-  ity;  and  the  want  of  ethical  centre  and 
tic  experiment.  His  constant  trans-  grasp,  which  has  been  his  weakness 
formations,  too,  and  the  ethical  hetero-  hitherto,  is  one  which  the  years  may 
geneity  of  his  work  take  away  some-  mend,  perhaps,  more  easily  than  any- 
thing of  the  impression  of  sincerity  and  thing  else. 

THE  END 


* 


A    DREAM    OF    SPRING 

BY  FLORBNCB  MACLURE 

OPRINQ  lay  beneath  a  maple  tree 
And  roused  her  from  her  rest, 
The  first  shy  zephyr  floating  by 
Her  fair,  soft  cheek  caress'd. 

Spring  sat  beneath  the  maple  tree 

And  as  she  sat  she  smiled, 
The  little  birds  came  flocking  round 

By  that  sweet  smile  beguiled. 

Spring  walked  beneath  the  forest  trees. 
And  as  she  walked  she  sang 

With  such  a  subtle  sweetness,  that 
The  flowers  to  greet  her  sprang. 

Spring  sat  beside  a  brooklet  gay, 

And  as  she  sat  she  sighed 
A  sigh  of  satisfaction  great 

That  thrilled  with  joyous  pride. 

Spring  lay  beneath  a  maple  tree, 
No  cares  her  mind  distress'd. 

The  gentlest  zephyr  floated  by 
And  sang  her  soul  to  rest. 


' RUSSO -JAPANESE 


WAK  PICTVRE5. 


CAPTURED    RUSSIAN    GUNS 

In  the  first  battle  of  the  war,  at  the  crossing  of  the  Yalu,  the  Arisaka 
field  guns  of  the  Japanese  completely  outclassed  the  Russian  artillery.  The 
Japanese  guns  were  also  served  by  gunners  who  were  more  efficient  by  reason 
of  greater  skill  and  training.  When  that  fight  was  over,  many  Russian  guns 
remained  in  the  hands  of  the  victors,  and  it  was  so  in  nearly  all  the  engage- 
ments of  the  year.  Those  shown  in  this  picture  were  captured  in  Fort  Tai- 
kozan.  It  is  evident  that  the  breech-blocks  have  been  destroyed  or  carried 
away,  although  no  doubt  the  systematic  Japanese  had  provided  for  just  such  a 
contingency  and  were  able  to  turn  these  guns  against  their  former  proprietors. 
The  fortified  mountain  in  the  distance  is  one  of  many  hundreds  which  the 
Japanese  had  to  face. 

Photograph  copyrivhted  by  Underwood  &  Underwood,  New  York 


\22 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


JAPANESE    TRANSPORT    WAGGONS 

The  British  Army  Transport  Waggon  is  a  lumbering  affair,  but  capable  of 
drawing  heavy  loads  on  Macadamised  roads  in  good  weather.  The  Japanese 
went  into  Corea  and  Manchuria  prepared  for  a  country  where  there  were  practi- 
cally no  roads  and  few  bridges.  In  February  they  faced  the  ice-bound  roads  of 
Corea;  in  June  they  used  the  sun-baked,  clay  roads  of  Manchuria;  in  July  and 
August,  the  wet  season  made  the  paths  channels  of  mud.  This  picture  shows 
the  light  waggons  adopted  by  Japan  for  this  campaign.  Each  may  be  pulled  by 
a  harnessed  ox  as  they  were  in  Corea,  or  by  a  horse  as  in  Manchuria.  Each 
might  bear  a  load  of  ammunition,  telegraph  poles,  planks  for  bridges,  shelter- 
tents,  or  even  provender  for  man  and  beast. 

Photograph  copyrighted  by  Underwood  &  Underwood,  New  York 


RUSSO-JAPANESE  WAR  PICTURES 


52s 


WEARY     TRANSPORT 

The  best  of  armies  may  not  have  enough  of  everything  and,  though  Japan 
was  well  prepared  for  nearly  every  emergency,  occasionally  the  best  of  native 
workmanship  had  to  be  used.  Here  are  three-mule  transport  carts  of  a  heavier, 
native  make.  The  "home-made"  wheels  creak  on  wooden  axles  and  gather  a 
fair  share  of  the  sticky  mud.  And  the  load?  The  great-coats  of  the  Mikado's 
soldiers.  The  weather  is  warm,  the  steady  march  day  after  day  is  tiring,  the 
soldiers  drop  their  great-coats  and  leave  them  to  be  gathered  up  and  brought 
forward  by  the  transport.  Or  it  may  have  been  a  battle,  and  it  may  be  that 
there  are  a  few  hundreds  of  the  "little  brown  fellows"  who  have  no  further 
need  of  great-coats,  no  further  interests  in  the  transport  of  a  great  army. 
Their  spirits  which  may  hover  over  the  battlefield  or  return  to  the  atmosphere 
of  Japan  there  to  watch  over  the  destiny  of  the  family  to  which  they  belong 
and  to  do  further  work  for  the  progress  of  the  Empire. 

The  stone-fence,  the  high  corn  in  which  the  armies  occasionally  secreted 
themselves,  the  mud  road,  the  rambling  Manchu  farm-house  in  the  distance — 
all  these  are  characteristic  of  the  country. 


Photoifrapk  eopyrii/kUd  by  Underwood  Cf  Undtrwood,  Ntw  York. 


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THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


THE    WORK    OF    THE    RED    CROSS 

No  army  ever  marched  forth  to  battle  better  fitted  to  fight  disease  than 
were  the  Japanese.  Physically  fit  was  the  description  of  the  athletic  half-a- 
million  whom  Japan  sent  across  to  Manchuria.  They  were  in  good  health 
when  they  started  and  were  never  allowed  to  get  into  a  different  condition.  A 
daily  bath  was  the  rule  if  water  was  obtainable.  Then  there  was  the  light 
aluminum  canteen,  the  aluminum  or  woven  willow  panikins,  the  carefully  fitted 
shoes  and  tight  leggings,  the  trim,  close-fitting  garments — in  strong  contrast 
with  the  unsanitary  wooden  water-bottle,  the  bag  of  brown  bread,  the  heavy,  ill- 
fitting  boots,  the  big  trousers,  the  long,  clumsy  great-coat  of  the  slow  and 
stupid  Russian.  But  even  the  mobile  Japanese  army  met  with  disease  and 
bullets,  and  more  often  with  the  latter.  The  shrapnel  occasionally  tore  holes  in 
the  ranks;  the  cold  steel  at  the  crest  of  hills  and  parapets  inflicted  many  severe 
wounds ;  and  often  there  were  long  processions  as  shown  in  this  picture.  The 
wounded  and  the  dead  were  carried  in  waggons,  or  on  litters  borne  by  four  men, 
away  to  the  rear  where  were  the  field-hospitals  and  the  crudely-marked  graves. 
Nothing  marks  the  cruelty  and  devilishness  of  war  more  than  scenes  of  this 
kind.  At  the  lower  right-hand  corner,  the  ridge  of  broken  rock  is  part  of  the 
embankment  of  the  railway  to  Port  Arthur — for  this  picture  was  taken  less  than 
five  miles  from  that  place.     The  telegraph  wires  are  out  of  commission. 

Photograph  copyrighted  by  Underwood  &  Underwood,  New  York 


RUSSO-JAPANESE  WAR  PICTURES 


0^^ 


A    JAPANESE    CAMP    BEFORE    PORT    ARTHUR 


This  picture  presents  a  view  of  a  camp  of  the  third  Japanese  army  in  the 
siege  line,  looking  north-west  to  Hoozan  Hill,  near  Port  Arthur.  The  horses 
of  the  cavalry  are  picketed  about  near  the  shelter-tents  or  are  being  led  back 
from  the  creek  where  they  have  been  watered.  The  soldiers  are  resting  and 
awaiting  fresh  orders,  while  the  engineers  are  working  on  new  trenches  and 
the  big  guns  are  thundering  in  their  working  of  throwing  shells  into  the  fortifi- 
cations. Even  in  this  sheltered  valley,  an  occasional  Russian  shell  may  burst 
and  raise  a  cloud  of  dust.  There  were  long  periods  of  waiting  for  the  cavalry 
and  the  infantry  during  the  months  which  were  required  for  the  scientific,  en- 
circling attack  which  finally  resulted  in  giving  Japan  possession  of  the  fortress. 

Photcffrapk  copyriohUd  by  Underwood  &  Underwood,  Ntw  York 


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THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


A    HUGE    SIEGE    GUN 

Viceroy  Alexieff  believed  in  Port  Arthur's  impregnability.  He  boasted 
again  and  again  that  the  Japanese  would  never  take  it.  It  was  the  emblem  of 
his  Eastern  policy — a  policy  of  expansion  and  exclusion.  It  embodied  all  his 
years  of  labour  in  China,  his  arrogance,  his  superiority,  his  sovereignty.  He 
expected  the  Japanese  to  fight,  but  thought  that  their  defeat  would  be  an  easy 
matter.  He  misjudged  the  enemy  and  he  mistook  the  arrogance  of  himself  and 
his  officers  for  strength  of  character  and  military  skill.  The  war  tore  away  the 
mask  and  the  incompetent,  cowardly,  besotted  Russian  officer  stands  revealed. 

The  Japanese  entered  Manchuria,  crushed  Stakelberg  who  marched  to  the 
assistance  of  threatened  Port  Arthur,  and  then  ranged  themselves  round  the 
doomed  fortress.  They  had  taken  it  in  one  day,  back  in  1894;  now  they  were 
prepared  to  spend  a  month.  As  a  matter  of  record,  they  spent  nearly  six.  The 
sort  of  guns  required  to  reach  its  vitals  are  pictured  here — huge  siege  guns, 
mounted  on  permanent  platforms  suitable  for  the  support  of  the  intricate  and 
delicate  machinery  used  in  the  operating.  These  guns  have  a  range  of  eight 
miles. 


Photograph  copyrighted  by  Underwood  &  Underwood,  New  York 


A  RINABOLT— AUTOCAR,  TYPE  X 


THE  MOTOR  CAR  OF   1905 


By  AUTOMOBILIST. 


ADS  have  a  habit  of  com- 
mercialising themselves  in- 
to respectable  customs. 
The  motor  car,  while  still 
to  some  extent  a  fad,  is 
being  rapidly  commercialised. 

The  bicycle  was  a  fad  for  years,  but 
to-day  it  is  a  recognised  method  of 
transportation,  though  still  used  by 
certain  classes  for  pleasure  only.  Its 
successor,  the  motor  car,  will  degen- 
erate into  the  commonplace  much  less 
quickly  because  of  its  greater  cost, 
because  its  pleasure  is  secured  with 
less  physical  exertion,  and  because  it 
enables  one  person  to  add  to  the  enjoy- 
ment of  those  whom  he  delights  to 
please. 

There  is  another  feature  of  similarity 
in  these  two  vehicles.  Each  machine 
owes  much  of  its  popularity  to  the  fact 
that  it  enables  the  city  resident  to  get 
out  into  the  country.  Only  those 
cooped  up  in  narrow  streets  and 
among  high  buildings,  forced  to 
breathe  smoke-laden  air  for  many 
hours  a  day,  know  how  sweet  and 
wholesome  is  the  balmy  country  air, 
and  how  restful  are  the  cool  greens 
and  browns  of  the  rural  landscape. 
In  the  United  States  and  Great  Britain 
the  automobile  has  greatly  increased 


the  rush  countrywards.  The  w^ealthy 
resident  of  the  large  city  may  go 
twenty  miles  from  his  place  of  busi- 
ness to  his  country-house  in  an  hour. 
Or,  if  he  boasts  no  country-house,  he 
may  spend  the  summer  evenings  giv- 
ing his  wife  and  children  pleasant  little 
excursions  out  through  the  parks  and 
over  the  country  roads.  Saturday 
afternoon  and  holiday  excursions  are 
also  popular. 

The  form  of  the  motor  car  bears  out 
this  idea.  The  popular  American 
vehicle  of  pleasure,  where  horses  are 
the  motive  power,  is  the  surrey  with 
its  two  seats  and   with  or  without  a 


A   RUNABOUT— NORTHERN 


5^7 


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THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


A   CONVERTIBLE    TOURING   CAR — THE    KOKU,    MODEL   C 


cover.  The  popular  motor  car  is  an 
adaptation  of  this,  with  bulging  seats, 
side  entrances  to  the  rear  portion  and 
with  heavier  and  smaller  wheels.  The 
automobile  of  to-day  is  coming  rapidly 
to  a  few  types.  The  earlier  vehicles 
were  of  a  form  peculiarly  distinct  from 
ordinary  vehicles.  The  influences 
which  made  the  surrey  the  popular 
vehicle  have  had  the  same  effect  on 
the  automobile;  hence  the  result  stated. 
To  the  casual  observer,  most  automo- 
biles capable  of  carrying  four  persons 
look  very  much  alike.  Only  the  de- 
tails are  strikingly  different. 

It  is  but  natural  that  Canada  should 
be  behind  such  countries  as  the  United 
States,  Great  Britain  and  France  in  the 
use  of  automobiles.  Not  that  we  are 
less  enterprising,  but  there  is  a  differ- 
ence between  a  small  population  and  a 
large  one,  a  thickly  settled  territory 
and  the  opposite.  The  roads  in  cer- 
tain parts  of  Canada  are  good,  but 
some  of  them  are  less  than  fifty  years 
old.  A  macadam  road  requires  age 
to  bring  it  to  perfection.  Again,  the 
Old  Regime  in  Canada  has  left  traces 
upon  the  cities  of  Quebec  and  Mon- 
treal in  the  matter  ojf  narrow,  tortuous 
streets,  which  militate  against  the 
popularity  of  the  swiftly-moving  vehi- 
cle. 

In  Nova  Scotia,  New  Brunswick  and 
British  Columbia — the  most  conserva- 
tive parts  of  Canada — the  automobile 


is  just  being 
introduced. 
Quebec, witha 
population  of 
70,000  people, 
had  only  four 
autos  in  1904. 
In  Montreal, 
only  60  licen- 
ses were  is- 
sued last  year. 
In  the  pro- 
vince of  On- 
laiio,  where 
the  roads  and 
streets  are 
more  suitable, 
there  were 
four  hundred 
machines  in  use  in  1904.  There  were 
no  factories  in  Canada  building  gaso- 
lene autos,  and  only  one  make  ol  elec- 
tric runabouts. 

The  year  1905  promises  a  different 
condition  of  affairs.  There  will  be 
three  factories  on  this  side  of  the  bor- 
der, there  will  be  increased  sales  of 
machines  of  all  classes,  and  more  at- 
tention will  be  paid  to  the  sport  by  all 
classes.  Even  business  men  will  be 
compelled  to  seriously  consider  the 
possibilities  of  the  auto  in  express,  de- 
livery and  dray  work.  The  snow  and 
ice  which  coats  our  streets  for  three 
months  in  each  year  will  retard  this 
latter  development  until  such  time  as 
the  cities  of  Canada  learn  that  all  snow 
must  be  removed  from  business  streets 
almost  immediately  after  its  arrival. 
The  automobile  is  destined  to  change 
our  idea  of  street  cleaning  and  road 
building.  The  "good  roads"  move- 
ment gained  much  from  the  bicycle;  it 
will  gain  even  more  from  the  auto. 


A   SINGLE   CYLINDER — THE   CADILLAC 


THE  MOTOR  CAR  OF  igos 


529 


THE  AUTOMOBILE  SHOW,  TORONTO 

The  automobile  shows  of  London.  New  York.  Chicago,  and  other  centres,  are  the  latest  development  in 
events  which  combine  both  social  and  business  features 


An  idea  of  the  variety  and  the  simi- 
larity of  the  different  makes  may  best 
be  exhibited  by  a  description  of  the 
leading'  makes  now  being  offered  to 
Canadian  purchasers. 

RUNABOUTS. 

The  runabout  or  two-passenger  car 
suits  people  whose  means  are  limited 
but  yet  sufficient  to  justify  them  in 
tasting  this  modern  pleasure.  It  also 
is  suitable  for   the  business  or  profes- 


sional   man   who  prefers  such    a    ma- 
chine to  a  horse  and  trap. 

The  most  modest  car  in  this  class  is 
the  Pope  Tribune,  manufactured  by 
the  celebrated  Pope  Manufacturing 
Co.,  for  years  known  as  the  manufac- 
turers of  the  Columbia  Bicycle.  This 
machine  has  a  seven  horse-power  engine 
situated  in  front  and  drives  through  a 
sliding  gear  transmission  to  the  rear 
axle.  It  has  very  handsome  lines,  and 
sells  in  Canada  for  $650. 


THE  AUTOMOBILE  SHOW,   TORONTO 


53° 


THE  C ANA  or  AN  MAGAZINE 


TWO-CYLINDER    TOLRING 
THE    OLDS 


TWO-CYLINDER    TOURING   CAR  — THE    RAMBLER 

The  Autocar  Type  X,  illustrated 
here,  may  be  taken  as  a  good  type  of 
United  States  runabout.  It  is  ten 
horse-power,  with  two  horizontal  op- 
posed cylinders  in  front  under  the 
hood.  The  control  is  on  the  left-hand 
side  of  the  car.  It  has  capacity  for 
nine  gallons  of  gasolene,  sufficient  for 
150  miles. 

The  Northern  Manu- 
facturing Co.  of  De- 
troit have  a  nice  run- 
about. It  is  a  lower- 
priced  machine  with  a 
single-cylinder  hori- 
zontal motor.  The  en- 
gine is  under  the  seat, 
not  forward  as  in  the 
Autocar. 

If,  however,  a  pur- 
chaser desires  to  se- 
cure a  city  rig,  his  choice  will  per- 
haps settle  upon  an  electric,  of  which 
the  best  known  type  is  the  Ivanhoe, 
manufactured  in  Canada  by  The  Can- 
ada Cycle  &  Motor  Co.  It  is  of 
handsome  design,  has  a  mileage  of 
about  40  miles  on  one  charge,  and 
thus  makes  an  ideal  carriage  ior  phy- 
sicians' use  or  for  a  city  runabout. 

LIGHT    TOURING    CARS. 

The  next  class  of  machines  is  the 
light  touring  car,  usually  equipped 
with  a  tonneau  or  rear  seat  which  can 
be  removed  and  so  make  a  runabout  to 
be  used  for  conveyance  of  two  passen- 
gers, while  the  additional  rear  seat  on 
short  notice  converts  it  into  a  family 
carriage.  This  has  been  a  popular 
style  of  car  in  America,  and  perhaps 
more  of  this  variety  have  been  sold 
than  of  any  other  one  type. 


The  Cadillac  Model  F  is  a 
well-known,  low-priced  car  of 
this  type.  It  is  a  single-cylinder 
machine,  with  side  entrance  ton- 
neau, individual  front  seats,  sell- 
ing at  $950.00  in  Detroit.  The 
Cadillac  machines  have  always 
been  in  evidence  in  Canada. 

The  Ford  is  a  machine  which 
is  made  in  both   Canada  and  the 
United  States,  the  Canadian  fac- 
tory  being    situated   at  Walker- 
ville.      Their   Model    C,    shown    here, 
has  a  removable  tonneau,  and  is  listed 
at  $1,100,    It  is  a  light  and  simple  car 
which  should  find  favour  in  this  coun- 
try.     It  has  two  cylinders,  a  maximum 
speed  of  30  miles,  weighs  1,250  pounds 
and  is  capable  of  going  180  miles  with 
one  filling  of  the  gasolene  tank.     The 
engine  is  placed  under  the  seat. 

There    is    only    one 
really  •*  Made-in-Can- 
ada"    touring    car    in 
existence,  and  that  is 
The   Russell.      It    ap- 
pears for  the  first  time 
this    year.       It    is    a 
medium-priced   auto, 
capable  of  seating  four 
persons    comfortably. 
There    is    a    fourteen 
horse-power,    double- 
cylindered  engine   situated  under  the 
bonnet   in    front ;    a  bevel  gear  drive 
direct    to    the    rear    axle;    a    gasolene 
capacity  for  two  hundred  miles;  a  side 
entrance  tonneau,  which  is  detachable; 
a  slide   gear  transmission    with   three 


FOUR-CYLINDER    TOURING    CAR 
THE  WINTON 


THE  MOTOR  CAR  OF  igos 


531 


speeds  forward  and 
one  reverse.  The 
control  is  excellent, 
and  the  hang  of  the 
body  gives  a  splen- 
did spring.  Natur- 
ally, Canadians  will 
prefer  a  Canadian 
car  if  it  meets  their 
needs,  and  many 
will  give  this  care- 
ful consideration. 
The  writer  has  ex- 
amined a  great 
many  cars  during 
the  past  three 
years,  and  while  it 
is  not  his  business 
to  recommend  any  make,  he  is  free 
to  say  that  the  machine  is  a  credit 
to  Canadian  mechanical  skill.  If  the 
season's  experience  shows  he  quality 
to  be  first-class,  this  car  should  be 
very  popular  in  1906.  The  model  de- 
cided upon  shows  considerable  discre- 
tion and  taste. 

The  Rambler,  made  in  Kenosha,  Wis- 
consin, is  built  this  year  in  two  models. 
Their  Surrey  Type  i,  illustrated  here, 
is  the  smaller  car  and  is  driven  by  a 
chain  to  the  divided  rear  axle.  The 
engine  has  two  horizontal  opposed 
cylinders  hung  below  the  frame  of  the 
machine.  A  long  upright  lever  at  the 
side  regulates  the  clutches  and  the 
throttle  is  controlled  by  a  light  bronze 
wheel  just  under  the  steering  wheel, 
to  which  is  also  attached  the  fuel  regu- 
lating lever.  This  machine  is  emi- 
nently suited  to  the  Canadian  market. 

The  Olds  are  this  year  being  made 


A   LIGHT   FOUR-CYLINDER  CAR — THE  STEVENS-DURYEA 


at  St.  Catharines  for  the  Canadian 
trade.  About  500  machines  will  be 
put  together  there.  Their  United 
States  factory  is  one  of  the  largest  in 
that  country,  and  Canada  should  be 
materially  benefited  by  the  entrance  of 
so  energetic  an  institution  into  the 
ranks  of  Canadian  industries.  The 
Olds,  twenty  horse-power  touring  car, 
a  cut  of  which  is  shown,  is  an  entirely 
new  production.  It  is  a  double-cylinder 
machine  with  wheel  steering  gear,  with 
surrey  type  of  body  and  side  entrance 
to  tonneau.  It  has  a  seating  capacity 
for  five  people.  The  gasolene  capacity 
is  fifteen  gallons. 

LIGHT    FOUR-CYLINDER    CARS 


A   FOUR-CYLINDER   TOURING  CAR- 


Heretofore  the  term  four-cylinder  as 
applied    to    automobiles  meant    large, 
heavy  cars  and  high  prices.     The  year 
1905  has  been  marked  by  the  advent 
into   the    market   of   an    entirely    new 
class  of  cars,  viz.,  the 
light  four-cylinder  car, 
selling  at  from  $2,000 
to  83,000.  These  cars, 
of    course,    give   a 
greater  range  of  speed 
and    power    than    the 
cars  referred  to  in  the 
preceding  section. 
Their   construction 
also  tends  to  eliminate 
noise     and    vibration, 
and  otherwise  to  make 
THE  ROYAL  TOURIST  comfort  and  elegance 


532 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


A    ROW   OF   PACKARDS,    OWNED   BY   MEMBERS   OF   THE    T.    EATON    CO. 


in  automobiling.  Unquestionably  cars 
of  this  design  will  be  ready  sellers  dur- 
ing the  coming  season. 

The  Winton  model  "C"  is  one  type 
of  this  car  which  perhaps  will  be  sold 
at  a  lower  price  in  Canada  than  any 
other  well-known  four-cylinder  car. 
Its  general  construction  is  referred  to 
again. 

The  Autocar  is  another  popular  car 
in  this  class.  The  makers  of  this  car 
have  already  been  known  favourably 
in  Canada  in  connection  with  the 
marketing  of  their  runabout  and  two- 
cylinder  cars.  Their  new  four-cylinder 
car,  cut  of  which  is  shown,  is  one  of 
the  most  handsomely  designed  cars  on 
the  market,  and  the  exposed  chassis 
shown  at  New  York  and  Chicago 
was  one  of  the  attractions  of  these 
exhibitions.  The  features  of  accessi- 
bility so  noticeable  in  their  run- 
about car  are  to  the  fore  in  this  new 
model. 

The  Ford  four-cylinder  car  is  also  a 
new  comer  this  year  with  a  20  horse- 
power, four-cylinder  engine  under  the 


FOUR-CYLINDER  TOURING  CAR — THE  DARRACQ 


bonnet  in  front,  with  a  long  wheel  base 
and  excellent  spring  suspension.  It  is 
going  to  prove  one  of  the  most  popular 
cars  of  the  year.  It  sells  in  Canada  at 
$2,700. 

The  Stevens-Duryea  is  a  name 
that  has  been  synonymous  with  high 
grade  construction  in  runabout  cars 
this  year.  They  offer  a  four-cylinder 
car  with  side  entrance  tonneau  of  spe- 
cial merit.  Every  attention  has  been 
paid  to  the  reduction  of  weight.  For 
this  purpose  the  body  is  constructed  of 
aluminum,  and  every  possible  ounce  of 
weight  has  been  removed  throughout 
the  frame. 

The  Darracq  car  will  also  be  offered 
in  the  Canadian  market  this  year  in 
this  light  four-cylinder  class.  It  is  one 
of  the  well-known  makes  of  French 
cars,  and  its  sale  in  Canada  this  year 
marks  the  widening  interest  in  auto- 
mobiles in  general.  In  1904,  the 
Darracq  carried  off  first  place  at  no  less 
than  sixteen  of  the  large  meets  in 
France,  Italy,  Germany,  Austria,  Eng- 
land and  the  United  States. 


"top  notchers 
There  still  remains  the 
class  of  car  which  is  pur- 
chased by  the  man  who 
wants  to  get  all  that  is 
given  in  automobile  con- 
struction regardless  of 
the  cost.  All  of  these 
machines  are  uniform  in 
construction  to  the  ex- 
tent of  employing  four- 
cylinder  vertical  engines 
situated  under  the  bonnet 


THE  MOTOR  CAR  OF  igos 


533 


A    LIGHT   rOUR-CVLINHER    CAR — THE    ALTOcAR,    JO    H.P. 


in  front.  All  of  them  are  constructed 
with  long  wheel  base,  thus  enabling 
them  to  accommodate  themselves  to 
our  imperfect  roads.  Nearly  all  of 
them  use  the  sliding  gear  transmission, 
giving  three  speeds  forward  and  a  re- 
verse. Some  of  them  have  as  many 
as  four  speeds.  Some  of  the  best  of 
these  cars  are  already  well  known  to  the 
Canadian  public.  The  Peerless  car, 
manufactured  in  Cleveland,  became 
famous  here  last  year  through  the 
phenomenal  driving  of  Barney  Old- 
field.  On  this  car  all  the  track  rec- 
ords from  one  to  fifty  miles  were  won 
during  the  past  season. 

The   Thomas  car,  made   in    Bufi'alo 
by  a  manufacturer  well  known   in  Ca- 


nada through  the  manufacture  of  the 
Cleveland  bicycle  in  its  early  days,  Mr. 
E.  R.  Thomas,  is  now  well  to  the 
front.  This  machine  appears  in  two 
models — one  with  40  horse-power,  and 
the  other  with  50  horse-power.  One 
of  the  features  of  this  car  is  the  de- 
sign of  body  on  which  the  manufac- 
turer holds  a  patent  on  account  of  its 
utility  in  turning  the  dust  from  the 
wheels  backward  in  such  a  way  as  to 
remove  it  from  the  passengers. 

The  Pope  Toledo  car  achieved  its 
fame  last  year  through  the  record  it 
made  in  the  various  hill-climbing  con- 
tests which  were  held  under  the  aus- 
pices of  the  different  automobile  asso- 
ciations.    This  year  the  car  was  ex- 


A   FOUR-CYLINDER   TOLRING   CAR — THE    THOMAS 


534 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


A   FOUR-CVLINDBR  TOURING  CAR — THE   PEERLESS 


hibited  at  the  g^reat  Paris  show,  and  is 
the  only  American  touring  car  which 
has  really  begun  to  do  business  in  Eu- 
rope in  competition  with  their  own 
manufacture  there. 

The  Packard  four-cylinder  car  which 
is  shown  in  this  article  has  become  so 
popular  during  the  present  season  that 
already  customers  are  offering  from 
$300  to  $500  premium  in  order  to 
secure  delivery  of  one  of  these  cars. 
The  Packard  was  subjected  to  a  severe 
test  last  October.  It  was  driven 
around  a  mile  track  a  thousand  times 
without  stopping  the  motor.  The 
time  made,  ex- 
clusive of  stops, 
was  a  little  less 
than  thirty 
hours,  or  an  av- 
erage speed  of 
33^  miles.  The 
drive  is  by  bevel 
gearing  instead 
of  chain.  The 
spark  and  throt- 
tle levers  are  both 
on  the  steering 
post.  The  price 
in  the  United 
States  is  $3,500. 

The  Winton 
[is  another  car 
which  has  at- 
tracted Cana- 


dians. The  four- 
cylindered  vertical 
engine  is  in  front, 
and  the  steering 
gear  and  body  are 
much  the  same  as 
in  all  high-priced 
cars.  In  accessi- 
bility, like  other 
good  cars,  it 
shows  consider- 
able improvement 
over  last  year. 
The  crank  and 
gear  cases  have 
easily  removed 
lids  or  sides,  and 
all  the  working 
parts  can  be 
reached  without 
difficulty.  The  pictures  of  chaffeurs, 
lying  stretched  out  under  their  cars 
looking  for  complications,  have  ap- 
parently induced  the  makers  of  good 
cars  to  prevent  such  discouraging  and 
uninviting  scenes.  One  pedal  and  two 
levers  control  all  transmission  clutches 
and  brakes — a  sign  of  the  striving^after 
simplicity. 

COMMERCIAL    CARS. 

The  Oldsmobile  manufactures'Com- 
mercial  Cars.  Their  light  delivery  car 
at  $1,000  is  suitable  for  florists, 'show 
dealers  and  other  light  work.    ^Their 


THE   UJWEST-PRICED   RUNABOUT — THE   POPE   TRIBUNE 


THE  MOTOR  CAR  OF  igos 


535 


heavy  delivery  carat  $2,000  is  capable 
of  handling' a  ton,  the  engine  developing 
sixteen  horse-power.  They  also  have 
a  ten-passenger  coach  which  is  suitable 
for  omnibus  and  stage  coach  service. 
Only  one  commercial  car  is  shown 
here,  the  Knox  made  at  Springfield. 
Their  No.  51  has  a  capacity  for  four- 
teen persons  with  a  maximum  speed  of 
eighteen   miles.     They  also    manufac- 


ture  delivery   waggons  and  trucks  of 
various  kinds. 


KNOX — COMMERCIAL  CAR 


SUNLIGHT 


BY    VERNON    NOTT 

KNOW  ye  the  calling  of  the  sunlight — 
Lawn  or  meadow,  woods  and  brooks? 
What  are  critics,  what  is  art,  compared  with  sunlight — 

What  are  libraries  of  books? 
To  a  mortal  in  a  mortal  world  there's  one  light, 
Only  one  light 
Clean  and  pleasant. 

Free  to  millionaire  or  peasant: 
And  it's  pleading,  pleading,  pleading,  is  the  sunlight. 

In  the  shadow  'neath  the  trees 

And  the  cawing  of  the  rooks. 

In  the  whisper  of  the  breeze 

Thro'  the  leafy  woodland  nooks — 
It  is  calling,  calling,  calling  all  who  shun  light. 

To  the  blessing  God  has  given. 

Forth  from  manuscripts  and  books — 

In  His  world  from  darkness  riven, 

You  and  me  and  everyone — 
To  the  cleansing  and  the  healing  and  the  glory  of  the  sun! 

Heed  ye  the  calling  of  the  sunlight,  , '  "'"" 

Summer,  autumn,  winter,  spring!  '^^'      J*'W 

What  is  money,  what  is  fame,  compared  with  sunlight, 

But  a  very  little  thing? 
El  Dorado  hath  no  treasure  like  this  one  light! 
God's  own  sunlight, 
Clean  and  healthy, 

Holding  life  for  poor  and  wealthy: 
And  its  calling,  calling  you  that  seek  to  shun  light 

From  your  ledgers,  ink  and  pens 

To  the  joy  of  song  and  wing. 

From  your  dingy,  healthless  dens 

To  the  life  the  sunrays  bring — 
Will  ye  disregard  the  pleading  of  the  sunlight? 

See  ye  not,  in  mental  squalor 

Wrapt  in  purblind  clamouring, 

While  ye  breed  the  worshipp'd  dollar, 

Wofc  is  to  you,  everyone. 
For  ye  lose  the  priceless  glory — all  the  glory  of  the  sun! 


"Quick,   the  knife,"  he  gasped. — p.  541 
Drawn  by  F.  H.  Brigden 


THE  BUILDERS 


i7?5 


C?^ 


bxEricBohn4i 


Author  of  ''How  Hartman   Won" 


Resumk — Harold  Manning,  an  officer  in  the  looth  Regiment,  which  is  ordered  to  Canada 
for  service  in  the  War  of  1812.  has  just  been  married  in  London.  He  secures  the  consent  of 
the  Colonel  to  take  his  wife  to  Halitax.  and  on  the  overland  trip  to  Georgian  Bay.  They  sail 
for  Halifax  on  H.M.S.  North  King,  arriving  safely  after  a  six  weeks'  voyage.  Prepara- 
tions are  at  once  made  for  the  rest  of  the  trip.  In  the  meantime  Mrs.  Manning  becomes 
acquainted  with  Mrs.  Mason,  wife  of  the  commandant  of  the  Citadel,  and  other  persons.  The 
annual  military  ball  is  about  to  lake  place.  At  it,  Mrs.  Manning  meets  Maud  Maxwell  and  the 
two  become  great  friends.  .Miss  Maxwell  would  like  to  try  the  overland  trip,  but  it  is  im- 
possible. A  few  days  afterwards,  the  two  companies  lined  up  in  the  Citadel  square,  and  the 
bi^fles  sounded  for  the  long  march.     The  long  procession  of  sleighs  and  men  moved  off. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

THE  second  night  of  the  long  march 
was  passed  by  all  in  newly  made 
shelters  far  away  from  human  habita- 
tion. The  sun  was  still  above  the  hori- 
zon when  the  sleighs  reached  the  little 
valley  in  which  it  was  decided  to  pitch 
their  camp  for  the  night.  The  spot 
was  well  chosen,  being  sheltered  from 
the  winds,  and  lay  close  to  a  little 
tributary  of  the  Shubenacadie. 

Already  the  scouting  party  had  com- 
menced work.  They  had  felled  a  big 
pine,  directly  across  a  narrow  ravine, 
leaving  space  between  it  and  the  earth 
sufficient  to  utilise  it  as  a  beam  pole 
for  a  large,  improvised  wigwam.  Some 
of  the  men  were  chopping  off  the  long 
branches  and  leaning  them  against  the 
fallen  trunk  while  others  were  cutting 
down  saplings  for  a  similar  purpose. 

"That's  a  good  beginning,"  said  the 
Colonel,  as  he  stepped  out  of  his  sleigh 
and  stretched  his  limbs  after  the  cramp- 
ing of  the  long  drive.      "A  fine  selec- 


tion too,  lots  of  water  and  no  wind. 
Now  every  man  must  do  his  best.  It 
will  be  dark  in  an  hour  and  it  will  take 
until  then  for  the  troops  to  arrive. 
Chaplain,  cannot  you  and  the  Doctor 
fix  a  place  at  one  end  of  that  shanty 
specially  for  Mrs.  Manning,  and  make 
it  snug  and  warm  ?  She  will  have  to 
camp  out  with  her  husband  this  time." 

*'  That  will  be  clerical  work  of  a  new 
kind,"  replied  Mr.  Evans  with  a  laugh. 
•*  I  can  say  grace  over  it  while  Beau- 
mont does  the  fixing.  How  will  that 
do?" 

"Capital,  if  you  will  arrange  the 
rugs  and  blankets  while  attending  to 
your  devotions,"  responded  the  Doc- 
tor. "I  think  the  wigwam  idea  excel- 
lent. When  hunting  in  winter  I  always 
prefer  a  shanty  to  a  tent." 

"Come  along  then,"  exclaimed  the 
Chaplain.  "  I  see  they've  got  the 
poles  up  at  that  end  already.  If  Mad- 
ame will  excuse  us,  we'll  soon  fix  her 
little  boudoir;  and  by  the  time  Lieu- 


538 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


tenant  Manning  arrives,  he'll  find  his 
castle  built  and  his  lady  waiting  at  the 
gate  to  receive  him." 

•'  It  is  very  good  of  you,"  said  Helen. 
But  this  time  there  was  a  look  of 
apprehension  upon  her  face,  for  they 
had  hoped  when  starting  to  cover  five 
more  miles  that  day,  in  which  case 
they  would  again  have  found  a  house 
for  her  to  pass  the  night  in.  As  it 
was,  there  was  nothing  but  woods  on 
every  side,  and  even  Harold  could  not 
arrive  until  the  darkening. 

Colonel  Head's  kindly  eye  noted  the 
distress,  which  Helen  was  doing  her 
best  to  hide. 

"There  is  no  help  for  it.  We've 
got  to  take  things  as  they  are,"  he 
exclaimed,  cheerfully.  "It  may  be  a 
good  thing  after  all,  that  we  can't 
cover  the  other  five  miles.  The  men 
are  tired  enough  and  this  spot  is 
simply  ideal  for  a  camping  ground." 

"I  believe  it  is," returned  Helen, who, 
in  watching  a  dozen  men  swing  their 
axes  to  good  advantage,  was  regaining 
courage.  "The  women  are  helping 
and  so  shall  I." 

Every  one  worked  with  a  will.  Sir 
George,  too,  was  constantly  on  the 
move,  issuing  orders  and  making  sug- 
gestions to  facilitate  the  completion  of 
the  preparations  for  the  night.  The 
experience  in  army  life,  which  the 
soldiers'  wives  had  learned  in  Europe, 
proved  of  advantage  now.  It  was  on 
this  account  they  had  been  selected  to 
accompany  the  column,  and  the  wis- 
dom of  the  choice  was  proving  itself 
already.  What  added  cheerfulness  to 
the  prospect,  too,  was  the  big  fire 
of  dead  timber,  built  by  the  scouts. 

Helen  watched  with  interest  the  de- 
tails of  the  work  going  on  around  her. 
She  was  laying  in  a  store  of  knowledge 
for  future  use;  and,  before  the  wigwams 
and  tents  were  ready  for  the  night,  she 
helped  not  a  little  to  make  them  com- 
fortable. 

As  the  tired  men  marched  down  the 
hill  to  the  camp,  some  of  the  wigwams 
were  ready  for  occupation.  The 
horses  had  been  provided  for  in  an 
enclosure  made  by  arrangement  of 
the    sleighs;    and   supper   was    ready. 


Caldrons  of  pork  and  beans  were  siz- 
zling on  the  fire,  while  tea  and  bread 
from  the  Halifax  supply  were  there  for 
all.  The  officers'  mess,  too,  was  a  jolly 
one  with  its  added  fresh  meat,  biscuits 
and  jam. 

"My  darling,"  said  Harold  to  his 
wife  after  the  meal  was  over  and  they 
stood  together  for  a  few  minutes  by 
one  of  the  blazing  fires.  "  I  begin  to 
realise  now  what  you  have  sacrificed 
for  me,  and  how  much  you  were  will- 
ing to  endure." 

"Don't  talk  in  that  way,  please," 
she  returned,  pressing  his  arm,  but  at 
the  same  time  dashing  away  a  tear. 
"  I  was  willing  to  come,  Harold,  and 
I  have  never  been  sorry  that  I  did." 

"  And  a  brave  little  woman  you  are." 

"  I  try  hard.  It  will  be  easier  when 
I  get  used  to  it.  The  worst  of  all  is 
the  loneliness,  but  that  I  knew  would 
come." 

"  It  is  the  hardest  at  the  start,  dear- 
est," he  said,  holding  her  tighter  by 
the  hand. 

"  Forgive  me,  Harold.  I  know  I  am 
silly,  but  this  is  the  anniversary  of  my 
mother's  death.  Is  it  any  wonder  that 
I  should  feel  a  little  blue?  But  never 
mind  my  foolishness,  I  will  be  better 
to-morrow." 

"  Foolishness  indeed!  You  are  the 
dearest  and  best  woman  that  ever  lived. 
I  had  not  forgotten  either;  and  if  I 
could  I  would  have  been  with  you  all 
day." 

"Well,  I'm  not  going  to  be  discon- 
solate any  more,"  she  exclaimed,  in  a 
gayer  tone.  "You  have  not  seen  the 
dainty  little  wigwam  that  the  Doctor 
and  the  Chaplain  have  fixed  up  for  us 
among  the  pine  branches.  They  have 
covered  the  floor  with  pine  needles. 
Then  our  bed  is  the  funniest  thing  of 
all.  It  is  a  pile  of  small  pine  branches, 
covered  with  another  of  cedar.  Over 
that  are  blankets,  next  a  huge  buff"alo 
robe  and  pillows,  and  over  all  some 
more  blankets  and  another  buffalo  robe 
on  top.  For  a  door  you  shove  a  slab 
of  wood  away  and  squeeze  in.  When 
inside  you  light  a  candle  to  find  a  slop- 
ing, branchy  roof,  seven  feet  high  on 
one  side  and  four  on  the  other,  with  a 


THE  BUILDERS 


539 


floor  space  that  is  quite  large,  and 
green  branches  all  around." 

'*  Is  that  your  cozy  corner,  Mrs.  Man- 
ning is  talking  about?"  said  Dr.  Beau- 
mont, who  at  this  moment  joined  them. 

"Yes,  she  is  giving  a  graphic  de- 
scription of  your  skill  as  a  builder,"  re- 
plied Harold,  laughing. 

"  We  did  our  best  and  the  Chaplain 
said  grace  over  it,  too;  but  it  is  not 
much  in  the  way  of  a  lady's  bed- 
chamber; sans  stove,  sans  windows, 
sans  crockery,  sans  everything,  but  a 
place  to  sleep  in,"  said  the  Doctor. 

•*  Well,  I  only  hope  that  your  quar- 
ters will  be  as  comfortable,"  was 
Helen's  laughing  comment. 

"Thank  you,  we  looked  after  that. 
What  is  more,  we  fixed  our  own  bunk 
right  next  to  yours,  so  that  if  anything 
happened  to  the  queen  of  our  party, 
we  would  be  on  hand  to  attend  to  her 
wants  forthwith,  whether  medical  or 
spiritual,"  rejoined  the  Doctor. 

"  How  kind  you  are!  What's  that?" 
she  exclaimed,  turning  her  head  to 
catch  the  sounds,  for  in  the  distance  a 
long,  shrill  howl  was  heard. 

**  Dem's  wolves,  Madame,"  said 
Bateese,  as  he  brought  up  another 
armful  of  wood  for  the  fire.  "  Dere's 
anoder  and  anoder,  sacr^!  de'll  be  lots 
o'  dem  to-night." 

"What  a  gruesome  sound!"  ex- 
claimed Helen  with  a  shiver. 

"The  pack  must  be  large,"  said  Sir 
George,  as  he  approached  with  Cap- 
tain Payne.  "You  had  belter  give 
orders,"  he  continued  to  the  latter, 
"  to  have  big  fires  kept  up  all  night. 
They  say  that  when  the  wolves  are 
numerous  as  well  as  hungry,  they  will 
even  attack  a  camp  if  not  well  guarded. 
What  do  you  know  about  them,  Ba- 
teese?" 

"  Some  tarn  dey  very  fierce,  Mon- 
sieur, and  when  'ongree  will  chase  eem 
right  roun'  de  fire  till  'e  shoot  eem 
dead." 

"  They  are  not  coming  this  way," 
said  the  Chaplain,  who  was  listening 
to  the  direction  of  the  sound. 

"Na,  na,"  said  Bateese.  "Dey 
smell  long  way  off,  and  go  roun'  and 
roun'  before  ever  dey  come  to  camp." 


"You  don't  say  that  we  are  in  for 
fun  to-night,  do  you?" 

"  Don't  say  noffin,"  replied  Bateese 
with  a  shrug.  "  Only  dey  won't  be 
here  for  a  long  tam,  anyway." 

"  Will  you  take  me  to  see  the  other 
women,  Harold,  before  we  go  to  bed?" 
said  Helen  with  another  little  shiver. 

"You  are  surely  not  afraid  with 
such  a  body  of  troops  around  you, 
Mrs.  Manning?  "  queried  the  Colonel. 

"  Not  a  bit.  Sir  George,"  was  her 
answer  and  she  turned  upon  him  a  face 
that  showed  no  trace  of  fear,  "  but  I 
want  to  visit  with  the  women  a  few 
minutes." 

"By  jove,  we  are  blest  in  having 
such  a  woman  with  us,"  said  the 
Colonel  to  the  little  crowd  about  him, 
as  the  two  moved  away.  "  It  gives 
us  a  bit  of  civilisation  right  in  the 
woods.  She's  a  treasure  and  you  men 
must  do  what  you  can  for  her." 

Helen  found  the  women  seated  on  a 
log  with  their  husbands  beside  a  fire 
near  the  middle  of  the  men's  quarters. 
They,  too,  were  discussing  the  wolf 
question. 

• '  J ust  listen ! "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Hard- 
man  in  alarm.  "There  must  be  twenty 
of  'em  or  more.  They  might  come  to 
us  when  there  is  such  a  lot." 

"  Let  'em  come,"  said  Mrs.  Bond, 
tossing  her  head.  "  What's  twenty 
wolves  agin  two  'undred  men?" 

"That's  not  it,"  said  the  other 
woman.  "  They're  such  sneaks.  They 
say  they  can  squeeze  into  any  'ole.  I 
wouldn't  want  one  of  them  beasts  in 
my  bunk  for  a  bedfellow," 

"  You  need  not  be  alarmed,"  said 
Lieutenant  Manning.  "There  will  be 
a  fire  in  front  of  each  camp  all  night, 
and  plenty  of  men  on  guard.  If  the 
women  are  afraid  though.  Corporal, 
it  might  be  better  to  put  in  a  few  more 
stakes  to  block  up  the  bunks  more 
thoroughly." 

"  Perhaps  it  would.  We'll  attend 
to  it,  sir;"  and  the  two  men  went  off 
to  cut  the  stakes  and  put  them  in  place. 

Helen  remained  with  the  women  a 
little  longer,  while  Harold  crossing 
over  to  speak  to  the  Colonel  told  him 
of  Mrs.  Hardman's  alarm.     Sir  George 


540 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


laughed.  Nevertheless,  he  gave  the 
final  order  to  double  the  guard  for  the 
night,  with  relief  every  two  hours 
instead  of  three.  At  ten  o'clock  the 
bugle  sounded  the  men  to  bed. 

The  large  fires  in  front  of  the  camps 
made  them  warm  and  comfortable  ; 
and  in  another  hour  the  whole  camp 
was  still,  with  the  exception  of  the 
guards  on  duty,  who  stood  and  lounged 
around  the  blazing  fires.  Silence  and 
quietude  reigned  supreme  save  for  the 
crackling  of  the  faggots  and  the  howl- 
ing of  the  wolves.  For  a  time  the  sounds 
were  very  distant, seemingly  miles  away. 

Hour  after  hour  passed  by.  Snug- 
gled beneath  the  blankets  the  men  and 
women  were  sleeping.  Suddenly  the 
howling,  which  had  been  circling  in  the 
distance  the  whole  of  the  night,  con- 
centrated in  one  direction  and  gradu- 
ally the  sounds  grew  louder  and  the 
tones  clearer. 

Captain  Cummings,  knowing  that 
the  drivers  would  be  familiar  with  the 
country  and  the  habits  of  the  animals, 
had  arranged  for  two  of  them  to  take 
part  with  the  pickets  on  each  watch. 
This  time  both  Bateese  and  Pat  were 
on  duty. 

"Sacr6!  de  dem  wolf  comin'  straight 
for  us,"  exclaimed  the  former. 

"Bejabers!  They're  on-  a  bee  line 
down  the  Truro  road,"  added  Pat. 
"  In  foive  minutes  the  howlin'  pack  '11 
be  on  us  as  shure  as  shootin'.  Pile  on 
the  dry  pine,  boys,"  he  called  out  in  a 
higher  key.  "  Whin  ther's  a  big  pack 
and  a  cowld  night,  it'll  take  a  tremen- 
jous  fire  to  keep  the  spalpeens  from 
sissling  right  into  us," 

"We'd  better  call  out  the  men," 
suggested  a  private. 

"  Holy  Peter!  we  must  call  the 
dhrivers,  too,  or  the  horses  '11  be  after 
a  stampede,"  was  the  answer. 

But  some  of  the  soldiers  had  heard 
the  wolves  and  were  up.  Captains 
Cummings  and  Payne  and  Sir  George, 
too,  were  already  out,  and  the  men, 
many  of  them  only  half  dressed,  with 
guns  in  their  hands,  came  tumbling 
after  them. 

"We  may  as  well  see  the  end  of 
this,"  cried  the  Colonel. 


"  By  Jove!  Yonder  they  come," 
shouted  Cummings;  and  at  the  top  of 
the  long  incline,  leading  out  of  the 
valley,  a  dark,  surging  mass  could  be 
seen  clearly  in  the  moonlight. 

On  they  came,  straight  down  the 
road,  filling  the  air  with  their  loud, 
unearthly  yells.  Some  in  the  centre 
were  on  a  steady  run,  others  at  the 
side  scampered  irregularly  to  the  right 
or  left;  while  a  few  young  and  lanky 
fellows  leapt  madly  over  the  backs  of 
others  in  order  to  get  to  the  front. 

"Quick, men.  Rifles  ready,"  called 
out  Cummings,  as  the  men  got  into 
position  before  the  unusual  foe.  The 
wild  rush  of  the  wolves  was  checked 
as  they  neared  the  blazing  fires.  Still, 
as  Pat  said,  "numbers  made  them 
bould. "  There  were  more  than  a  score 
of  the  hungry  brutes;  and  the  sight  of 
fire  was  not  enough  to  divert  their  at- 
tention from  horses  and  men. 

As  they  struck  the  camp  they  set  up 
a  more  terrific  howl  than  ever,  and 
made  a  sort  of  momentary  halt.  The 
leaders,  a  couple  of  huge  fellows,  turn- 
ing gray  with  age,  seemed  in  a  quan- 
dary whether  to  turn  to  the  right  or 
the  left.  Then  they  made  a  rush 
toward  the  rifle  men  who  stood  near- 
est, and  the  whole  pack  came  on. 

"  Fire,"  cried  the  Colonel. 

One  of  the  old  grays  dropped  and 
several  others  with  him.  With  a 
cowardly  yell  the  animals  veered;  but 
it  was  only  for  a  moment.  Then  some 
savagely  turned  on  their  fallen  com- 
rades to  tear  them  limb  from  limb, 
while  others  scattered  to  right  and 
left.  Again  the  men  fired  and  then 
charged  with  fixed  bayonets,  rushing 
on  the  animals  with  cold  steel. 

By  this  time  the  whole  force  was 
roused  and,  clinching  their  guns,  ap- 
peared on  the  scene.  But  brief  as 
it  was,  the  battle  was  almost  over.  A 
number  of  the  wolves  were  killed,  some 
were  wounded  and  others,  still  unhurt, 
retreated  into  the  forest;  while  one  or 
two,  surrounded  by  the  bayonets  of  the 
men,  made  a  wild  dash  through  the 
camp  for  the  woods  on  the  further  side. 

Helen  did  not  go  to  sleep  early  that 
night.     The    excitement  of  the    day's 


THE  BUILDERS 


541 


travel,  together  with  the  new  condi- 
tions, had  unsettled  her  nerves.  Con- 
sequently, a  couple  of  hours  passed 
away  before  sleep  came,  and  then 
troubled  dreams  marred  her  rest. 

The  mad  yells  of  the  wolves  as  they 
neared  the  camp  awoke  both  her  and 
Harold.  With  a  suppressed  scream, 
Helen  clutched  her  husband  as  he 
sprang  up  to  don  his  outer  clothing. 
Then  came  the  fire  of  the  first  shots. 

"  Don't  leave  me,"  she  pleaded  in 
momentary  terror.  ''What  if  a  wolf 
should  squeeze  in  between  the  poles?" 

**  No  fear  of  that,  dearest,"  he  an- 
swered, pulling  on  his  boots  and  tunic 
in  less  time  than  it  takes  to  tell.  "But 
I  won't  leave  you  if  I  can  help  it. 
There  has  been  no  general  call  for  the 
men  as  yet." 

"The  only  way  in  or  out  is  through 
that  passage,"  she  cried,  calm  again, 
and  busy  dressing  while  she  spoke. 
The  shooting  continued  and  the  shouts 
of  the  men  were  louder  now,  while 
there  was  less  yelling  of  the  animils. 
Then  came  a  wild  hurrying  and  stam- 
peding around  the  camp.  Harold  had 
stuck  a  lighted  candle  in  a  crotch  and 
a  brace  of  pistols  in  his  belt.  In  an- 
other moment  he  was  ready  for  any- 
thing. 

"What's  that?"  exclaimed  Helen 
with  a  wild  shout. 

Harold  turned  instantly  and  by  the 
dim  light  saw  that  the  slabs  at  the  en- 
trance were  wriggling. 

"  By  heavens,  it's  a  wolf!"  he 
shouted,  and  almost  without  taking  aim 
he  fired  one  of  his  pistols  at  the  head 
of  a  monster  which  was  squeezing  be- 
tween the  poles.  The  bullet  grazed 
his  shoulder  but  with  a  gruesome  howl 
and  snapping  jaw  he  continued  forcing 
himself  into  the  narrow  cell.  Helen, 
springing  to  the  further  end,  seized  a 
dirk  from  the  sheath  in  which  it  hung, 
while  Harold  fired  his  second  pistol. 
This  time  the  ball  passed  through  the 
wolfs  jaw  into  his  body.  Still  he  was 
not  killed,  and  snapping  savagely  he 
floundered  into  the  room. 

Then  came  the  life  and  death  strug- 
gle between  Harold  and  the  wolf. 
With  his  empty  pistol  he  struck  him  a 


fierce  blow  upon  the  head,  while  the 
wolfs  teeth  clutched  the  young  man's 
leg. 

"Quick,  the  knife,"  he  gasped,  and 
like  a  flash  the  dirk  was  buried  in  the 
brute's  heart.  The  jaws  relaxed.  The 
leg  was  free  again  and  the  huge  wolf 
rolled  over. 

The  candle  was  still  alight  as  Harold 
staggered,  a  gory  spectacle,  to  his 
feet.  Helen,  too,  was  trembling  and 
spotted  with  blood.  Bravely  she  had 
faced  it  all  and  had  not  swooned. 

"  How  terribly  he  has  bitten  you!" 
she  cried  with  quivering  lips. 

"  Only  a  scratch,"  was  his  answer. 
But  the  shots  and  Helen's  screams  had 
been  heard,  and  the  poles  were  being 
forced  aside.  Sir  George,  the  Doctor, 
Cummings  and  others  had  come  to  the 
rescue. 

"  What  in  heaven's  name  have  you 
here?"  cried  the  former  in  consterna- 
tion as,  in  putting  his  head  in,  he  al- 
most fell  over  the  body  of  the  dead 
animal. 

"  We've  been  entertaining  a  wolf," 
Harold  gasped. 

"  And  he's  been  trying  to  kill  my 
husband,"  Helen  added,  bravely  keep- 
ing back  the  tears. 

"  You're  not  dead  yet,  though,"  ex- 
claimed the  Doctor.  "Can  you  stand 
up,  old  man?" 

"Certainly  I  can."  And  Harold 
rose  from  the  bloody  couch  to  his  feet. 
"The  rascal  nipped  my  leg,  though. 
Perhaps  you  had  better  look  at  it, 
Doctor." 

"  Come  outside  then,  if  you  can 
walk."  He  managed  to  reach  the 
blazing  fire,  followed  by  Helen.  And 
there  the  Doctor  dressed  the  wound. 

When  the  other  men  dragged  out 
the  dead  animal  before  putting  the 
place  in  order  again,  they  were  amazed 
at  their  discovery. 

"  Why!  it's  the  big  she  wolf,"  Cum- 
mings exclaimed.  "  The  mate  of  the 
old  gray  that  was  shot.  What  a  des- 
perate fight  Manning  must  have  had!" 

"And  his  wife,"  echoed  Sir  George. 
"  The  wonder  is  that  she  retained  her 
senses." 

Harold's  hurt  was  not  a  severe  one. 


542 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


Fortunately  it  was  but  a  dying  snap, 
and  the  blood  on  his  clothes  was  from 
the  wolf.  So  he  cleaned  and  chang'ed 
them,  and  Helen  with  water  and 
sponge  refreshed  herself  too.  Half  an 
hour  later  they  returned  to  their  own 
wigwam.  But  the  men  had  not  been 
idle.  They  had  made  it  over  again; 
and  they  found  their  bunk  as  good  as 
new.  So  after  each  had  taken  a  glass 
of  Old  Madeira,  which  Harold  had 
fortunately  brought  with  him,  they 
once  more  retired  to  rest.  The  out- 
side guards  were  changed,  and  soon 
the  men  of  the  troop  were  trying  to 
sleep  again,  in  preparation  for  the 
next  day's  march. 

CHAPTER  XV 

NOTWITHSTANDING  the  exciting 
disturbances  of  the  night,  to  both 
men  and  beasts,  the  troops  were  up 
by  daylight.  Breakfast  was  over,  the 
camp  was  struck,  and  all  were  ready 
to  march  before  the  sun  in  the  clear 
winter  sky  was  much  above  the 
horizon. 

During  the  last  of  the  preparations, 
Helen,  wrapped  in  her  furs,  was  seated 
on  a  log  by  one  of  the  fires.  While 
waiting  for  Harold  she  was  busy  jot- 
ting down  notes  in  a  scrap-book  that 
lay  on  her  knee. 

*'  Well,  dearie,"  he  exclaimed,  as  he 
joined  her  with  a  very  slight  limp. 
'*  We  start  in  ten  minutes.  Are  you 
quite  ready?  But  what  is  this  you  are 
doing?" 

"Just  scribbling  a  bit,"  she  replied; 
"commencing  my  diary.  And  how  is 
the  leg?     It  must  hurt  you." 

"Only  a  little.  The  doctor  has 
dressed  it  again.  He  says  it  is  a  mere 
trifle.  The  thick  folds  of  my  trowsers 
saved  me  from  a  bite  that  might  have 
been  serious.  So  you  are  turning 
historian  are  you?  Commencing,  I  sup- 
pose, with  a  thrilling  tale  of  adventure." 

"  Last  night's  experience  should  be 
thrilling  enough  to  make  a  record  of, 
don't  you  think?"  was  her  answer. 

"  Well,  yes,  if  you  only  put  it  down 
right.  You  should  commence  with  an 
account  of  the  brave  lady,  who,  with- 


out fear,  seized  a   dagger  and  by  her 
dexterity  saved  the  life  of  her  husband." 

"O,  Harold!  How  you  talk!  What 
nonsense !" 

"There  is  no  nonsense  about  it, 
my  dear.  Where  would  I  have  been 
but  for  you?  Both  my  pistols  empty, 
clutched  by  a  big  wolf,  and  no  knife 
within  reach  until  you  handed  it  to  me. 
No,  my  dear  Mrs.  Manning,  you  were 
veritably  your  husband's  preserver. 
Put  it  down  quick,  for  we  have  scarcely 
a  minute  to  lose." 

"It  is  too  late,"  she  returned  with 
grave  perspicacity.  "The  first  chapter 
is  closed.  What  I  have  writ,  I  have 
writ,  and  there's  the  end  o't."  And 
closing  her  scrap  book  she  opened  her 
reticule  to  put  it  in. 

"But  my  brave  lady,"  he  cried. 
"My  heroine  of  the  midnight  battle, 
won't  you  let  me  see  what  you  have 
writ?" 

"That  is  a  question,"  was  her  laugh- 
ing answer,  putting  her  bag  behind 
her  back. 

"Why  so?"  he  asked. 

"  Because " 

"Because  what?" 

"Because  you  shouldn't  see  every- 
thing I  put  down.  I  just  thought 
I  would  write  a  bit  each  day  until  we 
get  to  Penetang;  but  there  are  things 
which  a  woman  would  not  want  to  tell 
to  a  man,  even  her  husband." 

"  I  never  thought  of  that,"  he  re- 
plied gravely.  "  Still — there  may  be 
truth  in  it." 

"  I  don't  want  to  be  mean,  Harold," 
she  said  relentingly,  handing  him  the 
scrap  book.  "  Read  it  this  time,  but 
please  let  me  write  what  I  want  with- 
out showing  it  to  you  again,  until  we 
reach  Penetang.  I  will  promise  that 
you  may  read  the  whole  of  it  then  if 
you  choose." 

"Well,  I  agree,"  he  replied,  stoop- 
ing to  kiss  her.  "  Writing  letters  to 
nobody  with  nobody  to  read  them." 

"Who  else  should  read  them  but 
the  nobody  for  whom  they  are  writ- 
ten," was  her  laughing  response. 

The  horses  were  harnessed,  but  he 
had  still  time  to  glance  hastily  over 
the  first  entry  of  her  diary.    It  ran  thus: 


THE  BUILDERS 


543 


**  Shubenacadie,    Nova   Scotia,  Jan. 
-,  1814. 


"Just  two  days  and  nights  since 
we  left  Halifax.  The  weather  sharp, 
cold  and  bright,  with  scarcely  a  cloud 
in  the  sky  at  any  time.  We  had  great 
fun  at  a  lumber  camp  on  our  first  day 
out.  A  good-natured  Scotchman  was 
what  they  call  'Boss,'  and  he  made  it 
very  pleasant  for  us.  He  gave  us  an 
excellent  dinner  and  was  very  gallant 
to  us  all;  but  he  tried  to  be  funny,  too. 
For  instance,  he  told  me  it  was  lucky 
I  did  not  intend  to  stay  in  Nova  Sco- 
tia, for  if  I  did,  I  would  become  a 
*blue-nose'  like  the  rest  of  the  women, 
for  I  was  catching  the  disease  already. 

"  I  laughingly  repudiated  the  charge 
and  told  him  it  was  a  calumny  upon 
the  Nova  Scotia  women,  for  their  noses 
were  all  a  natural  colour. 

**  *  My  dear  woman,'  he  replied.  'I'm 
no  daft.  Their  noses  are  all  blue,  but 
for  the  sake  of  effect  they  just  paint 
'em  pink.' 

"The  Doctor  heard  him  and  shook 
with  laughter,  while  Mr.  Mackenzie 
reiterated:  'Fact,  Madame,  fact!  When 
you  come  back  jess  ask  Mrs.  Mason 
and  she'll  tell  you.' 

"Still,  the  'Boss'  is  a  fine  specimen  of 
his  race,  rough,  generous  and  warm- 
hearted. 1  wonder  if  he  has  a  wife. 
If  not,  the  sooner  he  gets  one  the  bet- 
ter; for,  like  Harold,  he  could  make  a 
woman  happy. 

"  That  atternoon  we  passed  an  In- 
dian camp.  Some  of  the  red-skins 
were  armed,  and  as  there  were  a  lot 
of  them,  and  only  a  few  of  us  in 
sleighs,  it  didn't  seem  safe  until  we 
had  driven  on  and  they  had  shouted 
their  last  '  Qua.' 

"  But  the  horror  of  all  was  last 
night,  only  three  or  four  hours  before 
dawn,  when,  if  it  had  not  been  for  a 
providential  candle,  Harold  might 
have  been  killed.  Oh,  that  blessed 
candle!  I  have  stowed  it  away  already 
among  my  most  valuable  belongings 
in  commemoration  of  the  event.  The 
fiendish  eyes  of  that  gaunt  wolf  made 
my  blood  run  cold  as  he  wriggled 
through  the  bars  into  our  camp.  Har- 
old shot  him  twice  with  his  pistols  and 


afterward  stabbed  him  to  the  heart 
with  his  dagger;  still,  he  could  not 
have  done  it  but  for  that  little  candle 
which  he  had  stuck  between  the 
branches  before  the  fight  began. 
What  a  terrible  scene  it  was!  When 
Harold  and  the  brute  were  locked  to- 
gether and  the  blood  spurted  all  over, 
I  felt  sure  it  was  Harold's.  1  almost 
fainted.  But  somehow  I  just  wouldn't. 
So  I  grabbed  hold  of  the  wolf's  leg 
and  helped  to  roll  him  on  his  back.  It 
was  all  the  help  I  could  give.  The 
whole  thing  was  horrible  to  think  of. 
It  made  my  blood  curdle.  But  I  don't 
care  so  long  as  Harold  is  all  right.  I 
always  knew  what  a  good,  true  man 
my  husband  was,  but  never  before  did 
I  know  how  brave  he  could  be.  He's 
the—" 

Here  the  record  broke  off  abruptly, 
caused  no  doubt  by  the  said  Harold's 
arrival. 

"  I  wonder  how  you  purposed  con- 
cluding that  last  sentence?"  he  asked 
with  a  laugh,  as  he  handed  back  the 
book.  "  Possibly  the  dash  was  merely 
a  happy  substitute  for  something  else.' 

"  On  second  thought  I  don't  think 
I'll  finish  it,"  she  rejoined,  laughing. 
"Just  leave  it  for  you  to  conjecture." 

"  And  am  I  to  read  no  more  chap- 
ters?" he  asked. 

"  Not  even  one,"  she  replied,  nod- 
ding her  head.  "A  woman's  fiat  is 
like  the  law  of  the  Medes  and  Per- 
sians— it  cannot  be  altered." 

"So  be  it,"  he  assented,  while  he 
helped  her  into  the  sleigh.  "  I  shall 
restrain  my  curiosity  until  the  manu- 
script is  finished.  But  woe  beside  you  if 
you  do  not  let  me  read  it  then."  Then 
they  both  laughed. 

The  next  moment  the  bugle  sounded, 
the  sleighs  and  troops  were  already  in 
order,  and  on  the  word  of  command 
the  journey  was  resumed. 

Helen's  diary  continued. 

"Camp miles     northwest     of 

Truro,  Jan'y ,10  p.m. 

"  I  thought  I  would  write  a  little  in 
my  diary  every  day  when  I  commenced, 
but  here  on  the  very  start  I  have 
missed  a  day  already.  Perhaps  it  was 
because  Harold,  on  account  of  the  wolfs 


544 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


bite,  has  been  with  me  ever  since. 
To-day  it  has  been  terribly  cold  and  I 
was  afraid  he  might  be  worse,  but 
fortunately  he  is  not.  The  roads 
are  still  good  through  this  mountain- 
ous region  and  without  many  drifts 
either.  Bateese  pretends  to  be  dis- 
gusted. He  says  they  are  not  worth 
a  'Tarn';  for  he  has  been  doing  his  best 
to  find  a  drift  to  camp  in  ever  since  we 
started.  So  we  laugh  and  tell  him  it 
is  foolish  to  despair. 

*'  Last  night  we  were  on  the  lookout 
for  wolves  again.  We  sat  on  logs 
around  the  camp  fires  until  quite  late 
listening  for  them;  but  there  was  not  a 
single  howl.  We  did  hear  something, 
however,  that  pleased  us  better.  The 
men  had  made  our  little  camp  com- 
fortable for  us,  and  Harold  and  I  were 
having  a  chat  by  ourselves  before  turn- 
ing in  for  the  night.  Perhaps  I  felt 
moody  again  in  the  still  air  and  deep 
solitude  of  the  woods.  It  was  new  and 
strange  to  me — so  different  from  any- 
thing I  had  ever  experienced. 

'*  Suddenly  we  heard  singing  in  the 
habitants'  camp.  The  drivers  were 
squatted  around  their  own  fire  and  lis- 
tening to  Bateese.  I  wonder  if  I  can 
remember  the  words  of  the  quaint  lit- 
tle song.      It  ran  something  like  this: 

"  '  Ma  luffly  gal  she  ees  so  neat, 

She  be  nia  femme  come  by-am-bye, 
She  ope  her  leetle  mouf  so  sweet, 
An'  all  de  day  sing  lullaby. 

Ven  she  vas  baby  dress  in  print 
Her  petite  nose  was  wide  an'  pug, 

So  dat  it  make  her  eyes  go  squint 
Ven  she  shut  up  her  leetle  mug. 

Her  arms  so  short,  her  feet  so  long, 
Dey  make  you  tink  of  kangaroo, 

Still,  mon  devoir,  I  sing  ma  song 
An'  tell  de  story  all  to  you. 

But  she  so  fair,  her  hair  like  gold. 
Her  bref  is  like  de  rose  to  smell. 

An'  vat  care  I  for  tings  I  told, 
I  lufFdat  leetle  gal  so  well. 

An'  den  who  cares  vat  people  say? 

Mon  Dieu  !  e'en  d'ho  de  night  owls  sing. 
It  ees  no  mattare;  ve'll  be  gay 

An'  Cure'll  marry  us  in  spring.' 

"Then  the  men  laughed,  and  we 
laughed  too.     Somehow  it  roused  my 


spirits,  and  1  liked  Bateese  all  the 
better  for  singing  his  foolish  little 
ditty." 

Diary  continued. 

"Miramichi  River,  New  Brunswick, 

240    miles    from    Halifax,   Feb.    

1814. 

"I  intended  to  write  in  my  diary 
every  day  when  I  started,  but  'The 
best  laid  schemes  of  men  and  mice 
gang  aft  aglee. '  Several  weary  days 
have  gone  since  I  used  my  pencil  last. 
I  was  more  than  half  sick  and  did  not 
feel  like  writing.  Now  that  I  am  better, 
I  start  anew  and  shall  try  to  keep  it 
up.  Harold  has  been  very  good  to  me; 
and  so  have  the  Doctor  and  the  Chap- 
lain and  the  Colonel  and  everybody. 
Still  travelling  twenty  miles  a  day,  no 
matter  how  you  feel,  is  no  joke,  partic- 
ularly when  you  have  to  camp  out  in 
improvised  shanties  every  night,  no 
matter  how  intense  the  cold.  Two  of 
the  days  it  stormed  furiously  and 
Bateese  had  all  he  could  do  to  keep 
our  sleigh  from  upsetting  in  the  drifts. 
Some  of  the  others  did  go  over,  much 
to  their  discomfort,  and  we  began  to 
prize  Bateese  all  the  more  for  his 
dexterity  even  if  he  does  brag  a  bit. 
When  the  blast  was  the  keenest  both 
the  women  got  their  noses  frozen. 
That  was  two  days  ago  and  their 
driver  discovered  it  just  as  we  stopped 
to  camp  for  dinner. 

"  *  By  gar ! '  he  cried  out,  vehemently, 
'de  vemen's  noses  bot'  be  friz.' 

"Bateese  dropped  his  lines  into 
Harold's  hands  and  almost  with  a 
bound  reached  the  other  sleigh.  Then 
the  two  men  commenced  at  once  to 
rub  the  frozen  noses  with  snow,  much 
to  the  disgust  of  the  women.  But 
opposition  was  useless.  It  was  the 
right  thing  to  do,  and  at  the  same  time 
a  rare  joke  to  the  Frenchmen  who  con- 
tinued to  jabber  their  patois. 

"  '  Be  quiet  now,  Femme  Bond,'  cried 
Bateese.  'You  no  want  your  nose 
drop  off.' 

'"'Ardman  never  look  at  'im  femme 
again  wid  big  hole  in  him  face,'  cried 
Henri.      "Old  steel  I  say.' 

"The  women  realised  the  truth  and 
slowly  the  white  ivory  hardness  of  the 


AN  INTROSPECTION 


545 


two  noses  disappeared,  and  they  be- 
came red  and  soft  again. 

"  '  Dey  must  cover  de  face  wid  wraps 
all  de  rest  of  de  day,'  was  Bateese's 
parting  injunction  as  he  left  them  to 
return  to  his  own  sleigh. 

"We  are  lucky  in  having  Bateese 
for  a  driver.  He  is  usually  so  amus- 
ing with  his  stories.  At  first  we  used 
to  believe  all  he  said.  Now  we  dis- 
criminate, and  laugh  at  his  tales  about 
bears  and  things  as  heartily  as  he  does 
himself.  Speaking  of  bruin  reminds 
me  that  I  saw  wild  bears  for  the  first 
time  yesterday.  Harold  was  with  me. 
The  Colonel's  sleigh  as  usual  was  just  in 
front  of  ours  ;  and,  as  our  horses  slowly 
ascended  a  steep  hill  on  the  curve,  we 
saw  a  big  black  bear  with  two  little 
cubs  sitting  on  her  haunches  right  in 
the  road. 

"  Sir  George's  horses  reared,  while 
the  men  in  his  sleigh  picked  up  their 
guns  and  fired.  The  old  bear  dropped 
but  the  little  ones  were  not  hurt  and, 
instead  of  running  away,  they  cuddled 
beside  their  dead  mother.  Such  a  pit- 
iful sight  I    Some  of  the  men  clamoured 


to  keep  the  cubs  for  mascots,  and  the 
habitants  declared  that  the  journey 
would  be  lucky  if  they  did.  I  was  glad 
when  the  Colonel  gave  his  consent, 
for  I  hated  the  idea  of  killing  the  cun- 
ning little  things;  if  left  without  their 
mother  they  would  surely  die.  So  two 
of  the  sleighs  stayed  behind  for  a  time 
to  skin  and  dress  the  bear,  for  it  was  so 
much  added  to  our  larder;  and  also  to 
fix  a  box  to  put  the  little  cubs  in. 

"  So  last  night  we  had  roast  bear  for 
supper.  It  has  a  strong  taste,  but  as  I 
am  getting  well  and  hungry  again,  I 
relished  it  as  a  change  from  our  regu- 
lar diet. 

**  Harold  was  telling  me  afterwards 
that  one  of  the  cubs  is  male  and  the 
other  female;  and  that  the  two  com- 
panies are  to  have  one  apiece.  The 
funniest  part  of  it  is  that  they  chris- 
tened them  both  with  singaree — one  to 
be  called  Helen  and  the  other  Man- 
ning. 1  knew  the  officers  were  very 
kind,  but  I  never  suspected  that  the 
soldiers  cared  a  button  for  me. 
Pshaw !  There's  a  tear  on  my  paper. 
I  wonder  where  it  came  from?" 


TO    BE    CONTINUED 


AN  INTROSPECTION 


BY    L.    H.    SCHR.\M 


AIT  HEN  life  appears  a  chaos, 

When  all  happiness  seems  past, 
When  your  molehills  turn  to  mountains 
Overshadowing  and  vast; 
If  you'll  but  with  calm  reflection 
Take  a  retrospective  view 
Of  the  ydars  of  joy  and  sorrow 
You've  already  travelled  through; 
Then  this  truth  perforce  must  strike  you, 
As  the  Past  its  page  unfolds — 
That  the  dreading  of  the  Future 
Mars  the  joy  the  Present  holds. 


HAT  the  Hon.  James  Sel- 
kirk was  poor,  was  well 
known  by  more  than  his 
intimates  —  that  he  was 
proud  was  never  suspected 
of  him,  until  a  girl  found  it  out,  to  her 
consternation.  In  more  ways  than 
one  he  was  a  remarkable  youth.  He 
had  never  broken  the  heart  of  either 
of  his  parents.  He  was  on  the  best 
terms  with  his  elder  brothers,  and 
from  the  heir  frequently  borrowed 
such  sums  of  money  as  that  gentle- 
man could  afford  to  lend  him.  Though 
he  had  held  a  commission  in  an  infantry 
regiment,  he  had  never  been  cashiered. 
Though  he  arrived  in  New  York  very 
quietly,  he  was  not  under  the  shadow 
of  any  sort  of  disgrace. 

The  one  letter  of  introduction  which 
the  Hon.  James  Selkirk  brought  ashore 
in  the  pocket  of  his  tweed  jacket,  was 
to  a  very  humble  person — a  bachelor 
without  an  automobile,  whom  one  of 
his  brothers  had  once  met  in  Berlin. 
Within  a  week  of  the  landing  of  this 
son  of  two  earls,  he  was  known  to 
half-a-dozen  young  men  as  "Jim  Sel- 
kirk." He  shared  a  suite  of  rooms 
near  Washington  Square,  with  the 
man  to  whom  he  had  brought  the  in- 
troduction. He  speedily  improved 
his  poker  play.  He  learned  to  blow 
the  dust  out  of  his  cigar  before  light- 
ing it,  and  became  an  adept  at  main- 

546 


The  PRIDE 
of  the  RACE 

ByTheodore   Roberts 

AUTHOR  OF 'llEMMING, THE  ADVENTURER'^ 

Illustravtiorvs  drocwrv  by 
ARTHUR  WILLIAM  BROWN 


taining  an  upright  position  in  a  street 
car  without  clinging  to  the  straps  or 
clutching  at  the  faces  of  his  fellow- 
passengers.  He  was  interested  in  the 
work  of  his  suite-mate,  which  was  the 
reading  of  multitudinous  manuscripts 
in  the  office  of  a  publishing  house.  He 
even  added  to  his  friend's  work,  with- 
out profit  to  anyone.  For  more  than 
a  month  he  lived  modestly  and  merrily. 

One  night  Benson,  the  publisher's 
literary  adviser,  took  him  to  a  small 
affair  in  a  big  studio.  That  was  the 
beginning  of  it.  He  was  dragged 
here  and  there,  usually  resisting,  but 
always  tempted  by  the  chance  of  a 
waltz.  Each  last  place  seemed  more 
desirable  (to  the  person  who  dragged 
him)  than  the  place  before.  The 
rumour  of  his  ancestors  went  abroad. 
At  last,  with  chagrin  rather  than  sur- 
prise depicted  on  his  open  counten- 
ance, he  landed  on  the  warm  side  of 
the  Bailey-Bancott's  door.  And  there 
he  met  Elizabeth  Fulton  Van  Dymple, 
and  fell  openly  in  love  with  her  before 
he  realised  the  full  significance  of  her 
name.  Elizabeth  smiled  back,  and 
made  him  think  that  American  girls 
were  "awfully  decent  to  strange  john- 
nies," for  she  knew  all  about  the  two 
earls  and  four  baronets.  She  waltzed 
as  he  knew  she  would,  and  his  heart 
warmed  toward  everyone  in  the  room. 

As  the  days  passed  Selkirk  per- 
ceived a  coolness  growing  up  between 
himself  and  his  six  first  friends.  This 
pained  him,  and  like  an  honest  Eng- 
lishman he  asked  Benson  what  the 
trouble  was.    But  Benson  only  laughed. 


THE  PRIDE  OF  THE  RACE 


547 


and  replied  that  there  was  no  trouble.  One 
night,  while  five  of  them  were  playing  poker,  the 
chilly  something  in  the  air  got  too  much  for 
Selkirk. 

"  Why  are  you  chaps  beginning  to  treat  me 
like  a  dashed  outsider?"  he  asked. 

"  Far  from  it,  my  lord,"  said  Hickson,  with  a 
thin  smile. 

"Shut  up,  Hickson,"  said  young  Jones,  and 
looking  at  Selkirk  he  continued,  "You  see,  Jim, 
we  all  got  fond  of  you,  and  now  we  don't  like  to 
have  you  lured  away  from  us,  by  the  rich  and  the 
great." 

Selkirk  laughed. 

"  Hickson,  I'll  trouble  you  for  three  cards — 
aces  preferred — and  a  cigarette,"  he  said.  He 
lit  the  cigarette  and  scowled  at  the  cards,  while 
the  others  watched  him.  "  I  have  made  seven 
what  I  really  consider  friends,  in  New  York,"  he 
continued,  slowly,  "  and  you  chaps  know  six  of 
them.  The  seventh  in  number,  and  I  must  con- 
fess the  first  in  order,  I  have  never  mentioned  to 
a  soul  before  now.  It  is  she  who  represents,  to 
me,  the  rich  and  the  great.  She  is  rich  in  beauty, 
and  she  is  great  in  everything.  My  children, 
I,  poor  as  I  am,  have  lost  my  heart — have 
let  it  go  without  a  struggle.  If  she  will  marry 
me,  very  likely  the  governor  will  give  me 
charge  of  four  or  five  farms,  so  that  I  may 
support  a  wife." 

He  grinned,  and  blushed.  His  friends  shook 
his  hands  and  patted  his  back.  The  cynical 
Hickson  begged  his  pardon.  Then  they  all  put 
on  their  hats  and  crossed  the  avenue  to  a  place 
where  champagne  could  be  purchased  and  en- 
joyed. 

"Can't  you  give  us  the  lady's  name — we'll 
keep  it  close,"  said  one  of  his  friends.  They  lifted 
their  glasses,  expectantly.  Selkirk  whispered 
her  name.     A  smile  went  round  the  table. 

"My  son,"  said  Benson,  "there  will  be  no 
need  of  troubling  your  governor;  Miss  Van 
Dymple  has  a  farm  of  her  own,  and  our  offices 
are  situated  in  one  corner  of  it." 

Jim's  confusion  seemed  sincere,  but  Higgins 
laughed  incredulously.  "  Don't  let  a  little  thing 
like  that  spoil  the  romantic  affair,"  he  said. 

The  Englishman  stared  at  the  wine  for  a 
moment.  "I  won't,"  he  said,  "if  I  can  help 
it." 

Selkirk  went  to  the  lady  next  day, 
mounted  on  a  chestnut  mare  with  three 
white  stockings,  and  looking  his  best 
in  breeches  and  boots.  They  had  a 
date  to  ride  in  the  park.     After  a  short 


ELIZABETH    FLLTON    VAN    DYMPLE 


canter  he  drew  up  beside  her,  so  close 
that  with  his  toe  he  could  have  touched 
her  hackney's  elbow. 

"I  heard  yesterday  that  you  are  fright- 
fully rich,"  he  said,   blushing  crimson. 


548 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


She  laughed. 

"And  you  never  guessed  it?"  she 
asked. 

"  I  should  have,  of  course,"  he  said, 
'*  but  I  never  thought  about  it,  and — 
and  I  had  the  gall  to — to  love  you." 

The  Honourable  James  was  young, 
and  he  stared  at  the  ears  of  his  hired 
mare  as  if  he  thought  of  having  them 
changed. 

"Don't  hustle  Peter  or  he'll  bolt," 
she  warned  him. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,"  he  said,  and 
drew  off. 

They  walked  their  horses  for  awhile, 
in  silence.  Smiling,  with  heightened 
colour,  she  watched  him  out  of  the  cor- 
ners of  her  grey-blue  eyes. 

"  Did  I  interrupt  you?"  she  asked. 

Again  he  urged  his  mare  to  closer 
quarters. 

*•  Do  you  know  how  poor  I  am?"  he 
said,  bending  toward  her.  Their 
gazes  met  and  lingered,  and  she  read 
him  to  the  bottom  of  his  manly  heart. 
He  could  see  only  the  melting  beauty 
of  iris  and  pupil. 

"Yes,"  she  replied,  "I  knew  that — 
before — I  loved  you." 

Of  course  some  people  —  mostly 
reporters — were  surprised  at  Miss  Eliz- 
abeth Van  Dymple.  But  others  con- 
sidered the  love-choice  of  a  respectable, 
able-bodied  younger  son  much  better 
form  than  the  purchase  of  a  title.  Old 
Van  Dymple  was  one  of  the  latter. 

For  almost  a  month's  time  the 
world  was  a  place  of  roses  and  gold 
lights  to  James  Selkirk.  He  loved  her 
and  was  loved  by  her  in  return.  To 
him  alone,  the  sweet  surrender  of  those 
incomparable  lips;  the  delirious  caress 
of  those  immaculate  hands.  To  him 
alone,  the  message  of  those  superb 
eyes — now  commanding,  and  again  all 
tenderness. 

For  him  the  laughter,  the  welcome, 
the  companionship,  the  unembarrassed 
touch  of  the  fair  young  body  and  the 
elusive  fragrance  of  the  coiled  hair. 
Then  came  Satan,  in  a  shape  he  knew 
not,  to  his  Garden  of  Delight.  The 
lady  did  not  approve  of  his  friends — 
of  Benson,  and  Higgins,  and  the 
others  who  had  welcomed  him  to  New 


York.  She  snubbed  one  of  them* 
cruelly,  before  his  wondering  eyes. 
Perhaps  he  was  stupid.  Perhaps  he 
was  not  careful  enough  about  his 
associates,  as  she  kindly  informed  him. 
However  it  was,  he  could  not  under- 
stand. 

"What  did  he  do,  to  deserve  that 
at  your  hands?"  he  asked.  "  His  face 
was  clean — his  coat  was  all  right. 
He  didn't  stir  his  tea  with  his  fingers." 

She  tried  to  explain  his  friend's  social 
insignificance. 

"  But  he's  a  gentleman,  even  if  you 
go  only  by  the  world's  measure,"  he 
argued,  sorely  puzzled.  "  I  happen  to 
know  that  his  governor  is  a  parson — 
an  Archdeacon,  no  less — and  Horton 
himself  is  a  scholar,  and  makes  a 
decent  living." 

At  last,  vexed  by  his  persistency  in 
refusing  to  look  upon  (or  away  from) 
his  former  friends  with  her  eyes,  she 
remarked  (with  a  note  in  her  voice  that 
she  had  scarcely  intended)  that  perhaps 
their  standards  for  such  things  were 
not  the  same. 

"  Mine  are  the  standards  of — of  my 
people,"  he  replied,  crimson  to  the 
roots  of  his  blonde  hair. 

When  Benson  returned  to  his  rooms, 
that  night,  late  from  a  Bohemian  sup- 
per, he  found  his  English  friend  at  the 
writing-table,  with  his  face  on  his 
folded  arms. 


Three  years  passed,  and  at  the  end 
of  that  time  Miss  Elizabeth  Fulton  Van 
Dymple  married  the  richest  man  in  the 
Van  Dymple  set.  Howard  Cummings 
was  good-looking,  and  as  accomplished 
as  he  was  wealthy  and  fortunate. 
Elizabeth  was  quite  sure  that  she  was 
very  happy.  She  often  told  herself  so, 
as  if  to  impress  the  fact  on  her  mind. 
In  the  way  of  a  bridal  trip  they  deter- 
mined to  do  something  out  of  the 
ordinary.  They  were  both  weary  of 
Europe.  So  Cummings  had  his 
schooner-yacht  victualled  and  manned, 
and  on  the  day  following  the  wedding, 
with  a  maid  of  honour  and  the  best 
man  for  company,  they  set  sail  for  the 
great  salmon  rivers  of  the  North.     The 


THE  PRIDE  OF  THE  RACE 


549 


"Yes,"  she  replied,  "  I  knew  that — before — I  loved  you." 


voyage  northward  was  made  in  safety, 
for  the  Polly  was  big  and  comfortable, 
and  a  fine  sea  boat.  They  coasted 
Newfoundland  (putting  in  at  a  rock- 
girt  harbour  every  night),  crossed  the 
Strait  from  Cape  Bauld  to  Henly  Head, 
and  continued  their  northing  along  the 
Labrador.  At  last  they  reached  the 
purple  and  gray  country  of  good  fish- 
ing. 

One  morning,  while  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Cummings  were  alone,  whipping  a 
pool  about  a  mile  in  from  the  land- 
wash,  Cummings  stumbled  over  an 
alder  root,  and  in  his  fall  splintered  the 
lancewood  tip  of  his  rod.  Neither  of 
them  had  brought  extra  tips;  in  fact 
they  had  even  jointed  their  rods  aboard 
the  yacht,  for  when  the  flies  are  feed- 
ing on  "the  Larboardor,"  one  does 
not  want  to  dally  with  fishing  tackle. 


It  requires  all  one's  nerve  and  fly-dope 
to  keep  the  keenest  angler  ashore  long 
enough  to  cast  a  fly. 

After  swearing  mildly,  and  lighting 
his  pipe  inside  his  headdress  of  gauze, 
Mr.  Cummings  suggested  that  they 
return  to  the  schooner  together.  But 
at  that  moment  the  lady  hooked  a  fish. 
With  an  exclamation  of  disgust  the 
man  started  back  for  the  coast.  It 
hurt  him  to  see  other  people  catching 
fish,  especially  when  he  himself  was 
without  a  rod. 

Mrs.  Cummings  played  her  prize 
desperately  for  about  twenty  minutes. 
Then  she  lost  it,  and  was  very  angry, 
though  really  the  fish  was  not  to  blame. 
She  examined  the  cast  with  a  wise  air, 
and,  as  far  as  she  knew,  found  the 
flies  intact.  Upon  lifting  her  eyes 
from   the  gaudy  lures,   she  uttered  a 


550 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


little  cry  of  dismay.  A  wave  of  white 
fog  had  stolen  in  from  the  sea,  and 
now  rolled  up  the  valley  of  the  river, 
and  across  the  wide  barrens.  Already 
the  "rattle"  below  the  pool  at  which 
she  fished  was  cloaked  with  the  crawl- 
ing mist.  Behind  her,  the  sun  still 
shone  on  the  brown  and  rugged  wil- 
derness, and  empurpled  the  low  hills 
beyond.  In  the  sunlight,  as  in  the 
fog,  there  was  no  stir  of  life.  Even 
the  black  flies  and  mosquitoes  had 
fallen  to  quiet  and  silence.  Across 
the  expectant  air  floated  the  plaintive 
cry  of  a  snipe.  Between  the  empti- 
ness of  the  wide  barrens  and  the  awful 
approach  of  the  fog,  Elizabeth  trem- 
bled with  apprehension.  Dropping 
her  rod,  and  wrenching  the  mosquito 
guard  from  her  hat  brim,  she  set  out 
toward  the  fog  and  the  coast.  Bat 
the  way  was  rough  along  the  river. 
The  fog  drew  about  her  like  a  white 
midnight,  and  in  the  first  hundred 
yards  of  her  journey  she  stumbled 
twice.  She  held  a  little  to  the  left, 
deciding  to  keep  clear  of  the  hollows 
and  tangles  of  brush  along  the  stream. 
When  she  reached  the  more  level  foot- 
ing of  the  barren  she  again  altered  her 
course,  reshaping  it  for  the  coast,  as 
she  fondly  imagined.  But  she  pos- 
sessed not  a  trace  of  the  wilderness  in- 
stinct. She  even  forgot  to  mark,  and 
be  guided  by,  the  noise  of  the  swift 
water.  She  came  to  a  clump  of 
spruce-tuck — not  seeing  it  until  the 
stunted,  unyielding  branches  tore  at 
her  face  and  clothes.  After  skirting 
this  dismal  obstruction,  she  ascended 
a  knoll  of  moss  and  granite  boulders. 
From  the  summit,  before  her  stumb- 
ling feet,  a  covey  of  willow  grouse 
puffed  up  and  hurtled  into  the  fog. 
Sobbing  from  fear  and  fatigue,  she 
sank  upon  a  bed  of  moss  and  part- 
ridge berries,  in  the  shelter  of  a  tow- 
ering rock.  Away  from  her  kind — 
crouched  against  the  ground — hidden 
in  the  fog — she,  who  had  prided  her- 
self on  her  courage,  learned  that  she 
was  an  arrant  coward. 

Suddenly  Mrs,  Cummings  sprang  to 
her  feet,  and  screamed  long  and  shrill. 
Something   had   sniffed   at  her  elbow, 


and  she  had  seen  the  flash  of  red-brown 
fur.  A  fox — yes,  she  knew  it  was 
only  a  fox,  but  then  how  noiselessly  it 
had  slid  out  of  the  fog.  Perhaps  it 
had  thought  she  was  dead?  She 
clutched  the  rock  and  trembled. 

"Hullo,  there,"  came  a  voice,  muf- 
fled and  faint  across  the  fog. 

"  This  way,"  she  cried. 

**  Sit  tight,"  shouted  another  voice, 
strangely  familiar. 

Presently  she  heard  footsteps,  and 
two  figures  loomed  in  the  smoking 
allies  of  the  fog.  She  sprang  to  meet 
them.  Her  right  foot  turned  on  a 
rounded  stone,  and  with  a  cry  of  pain 
she  fell  forward  on  her  hands  and 
knees. 

She  must  have  lost  consciousness 
for  a  few  seconds.  Then  she  felt 
strong  arms  lift  her  from  the  ground. 
Her  foot  hurt  frightfully.  She  moaned 
with  the  pain  of  it.  "Good  lord!" 
exclaimed  a  voice  close  to  her  face. 
She  opened  her  eyes,  and  behold,  it 
was  Jim  Selkirk  who  carried  her. 

"Jim,"  she  cried,  "  is  it  really  you?" 

"  How  d'ye  do,  Mrs.  Cummings?" 
he  replied.      He  was  always  stupid. 

"  Did  you  come  all  the  way  to  the 
end  of  the  world  to  save  me?"  she 
asked,  softly. 

Selkirk  looked  into  the  fog.  "Pierre," 
he  said,  "I  wish  you  would  close  in  a 
bit,  in  case  I  should  come  a  cropper." 
The  other  man,  who  had  been  a  few 
paces  to  the  rear,  stumbled  to  his  side. 

Now  he  glanced  down  at  the  face  of 
the  womtn  in  his  arms.  He  did  not 
smile.  Not  a  flicker  of  the  old  light 
sprang  awake  in  his  eyes.  Then  he 
answered  her  question, 

"  Well,  not  exactly.  We  are  on  a 
government  survey —  came  through 
from  Quebec.  Major  Weston  is  in 
command,  and  a  brace  of  scientists 
are  along  with  us.  Pierre  and  I  were 
looking  for  our  camp  when  we  heard 
you  call." 

Mrs.  Cummings  wanted  to  cry.  Her 
ankle  pained  her  horribly. 

"  I  did  not  know — you  were  still  on 
this  side  of  the  water,"  she  said, 
weakly. 

"  I   am    a  constable  in   the   North- 


THE  DESPAIR  OF  SANDY  MACINTOSH 


55« 


west  Mounted  Police,"  replied  Sel- 
kirk. 

For  a  long  time  they  continued  their 
journey  in  silence.  At  last  Selkirk 
paused  and  leaned  forward,  listening. 
*•  I  hear  the  boat,"  he  said;  and  Eliza- 
beth, looking  up  at  him,  saw  the  col- 
our fade  from  his  face.    Pierre  nodded. 

"Now,  Pierre,"  he  continued,  "you 
carry  the  lady  down  to  the  shore  and 
see  her  safe  in  charge  of  her  friends, 
and  I'll  wait  for  you  here." 

As  Mrs.  Cummings  was  passed 
gently  into  Pierre's  arms,  she  stifled 
the  protest  that   leapt  from  her  heart 


and  burnt  against  her  lips.    She  closed 
her  eyes — tight — tight. 

"I  hope  your  ankle  will  soon  be 
right,"  said  Selkirk.  His  voice  was 
low,  but  it  did  not  tremble.  She 
made  no  answer.  The  half-breed 
trooper  had  carried  her  only  a  dozen 
yards  or  so,  when  the  scent  of  tobacco 
smoke  reached  her  on  the  fog.  How 
bitterly  she  smiled,  knowing  that  her 
old  lover  was  unconcernedly  puffing  at 
his  pipe  while  he  awaited  his  comrade's 
return.  But  at  that  moment  her 
knowledge  of  Jim  Selkirk  was  even 
less  than  it  had  ever  been. 


THE  DESPAIR  OF  SANDY  MACINTOSH 


By  ISABEL  ECCLESTONE  MACK  AY 


IT  was  a  windy,  blustery  day 
of  early  spring.  The  snow 
still  lay  in  the  shaded  hol- 
lows, but  the  sunny  spaces 
were  showing  green.  The 
sky,  which  had  lost  its  distant  winter 
blueness,  was  softer  and  nearer  to 
earth.  The  roads  were  a  quagmire 
bordered  by  little  rivulets  of  icy  water, 
but  an  early  robin  sang  from  some- 
where near,  and  the  clear,  pure  air 
had  a  tang  in  it  which  made  the  blood 
leap  gladly. 

Tl.e  minister  of  the  Presbyterian 
kirk  at  Embro  stepped  out  of  the 
manse  door  with  a  song  on  his  lips,  to 
the  tune  of  which  he  carefully  picked 
his  way  through  the  many  puddles 
which  lay  across  his  garden  walk. 
But   though  he    sang    his    mind  was 


occupied  with  weighty  matters,  and 
Sandy  Macintosh  lay  heavily  upon  his 
conscience.  Speaking  as  a  philoso- 
pher, he  considered  Sandy  in  the  light 
of  a  cross  which  must  be  borne.  Speak- 
ing as  a  man,  he  admitted  that  he  liked 
Sandy;  but  speaking  as  a  minister, 
there  could  be  no  doubt  that  Sandy 
was  a  terrible  scandal  in  the  kirk. 
Only  in  this  matter  he  and  his  elders 
saw  not  eye  to  eye.  The  elders  were 
used  to  Sandy.  For  forty  years  he 
had  carried  the  "Book"  before  the 
minister  with  stately  step  and  rever- 
end mien.  What  if  it  was  true  that 
he  took  a  "  wee  droppie;"  better  men 
than  he  have  their  little  weakness,  and 
if,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  he  was  guided 
home  from  the  "Rising  Sun"  every  Sat- 
urday night,  it  was  never  said  of  Sandy 


S52 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


that  he  had  to  be  carried,  and  Sunday 
morning  always  saw  him  clothed  and 
in  his  right  mind  ready  to  carry  the 
**  Book  "  with  steady  step. 

When  it  was  at  last  decided  that 
the  session  of  Embro  kirk  should  ex- 
tend a  call  to  the  Rev.  Robert  Mac- 
Pherson,  B.A.,  there  were  a  few  who 
shook  their  heads. 

"  He  iss  a  ferry  fine  lad,"  said  Elder 
Mackay,  judicially,  "and  herself  will 
not  pe  sayin'  he  iss  not  a  ferry  fine 
preacher,  but  he  iss  not  speakin'  the 
Gselic." 

"  He  iss  speakin'  the  Word,"  re- 
joined a  brother  elder,  solemnly;  '*  it 
iss  to  our  hearts  he  will  pe  speakin'  it." 

"Och,  yes,"  agreed  Elder  Mackay, 
*'  but  her  heart  would  pe  likin'  the 
Gaelic  pest." 

Before  long,  however,  even  Elder 
Mackay  realised  that  the  minister  was 
making  a  grand  fight  of  it.  He  had 
come  determined  to  win  a  place  for  him- 
self in  the  warm,  sturdy  Highland  hearts, 
and  winning  it  he  was.  A  fine,  strong, 
brave  young  man  the  Rev.  Mr.  Mac- 
Pherson,  grave  bejond  his  years,  as 
befits  a  minister  who  takes  his  calling 
seriously,  full  of  faith  and  hope  and 
good  works,  sure  of  his  doctrine  and 
his  God  as  only  a  Scottish  Presbyterian 
minister,  in  times  now  a  little  out  of 
date,  could  be  sure.  Of  the  Gaelic  he 
knew  enough  to  use  in  his  prayer,  but 
not  enough  to  attempt  a  Gaelic  sermon 
until  he  had  been  minister  of  Embro 
kirk  for  many  years.  Yet,  as  the 
feeling  of  distrust  amongst  the  con- 
gregation began  to  wear  away,  the 
minister  himself  began  to  feel  less  sure 
of  his  ground.  As  the  Highlanders 
trusted  him  more  and  began  to  know 
him  better,  he  found  that,  though  a 
Highlander  himself  by  birth,  there  was 
much  about  them  that  he  did  not  un- 
derstand. His  education  had  not  been 
among  his  own  people,  and  he  could 
not  but  find  that  in  many  things  his 
view-point  was  very  different  from 
theirs,  and  realised  that  much  adjust- 
ing must  be  done.  So  he  was  going 
slowly  and  feeling  his  way. 

In  the  matter  of  the  advisability  of 
Sandy  Macintosh  continuing  to  carry 


lie  "Book,"  he  had  been  feeling  his 
way  for  some  time  with  little  success. 
He  was  a  man  of  strictest  purity  of 
life  himself;  he  hated  sin  with  what  he 
was  fond  of  describing  as  a  "Godly 
hatred,"  and  he  could  not  reconcile  it 
to  his  conscience  that  a  "  drunkard" 
should  carry  the  "Book."  In  this  he 
knew  that  he  had  not  the  support  of  his 
elders.  To  them  the  word  "drunkard" 
could  not  apply  to  any  man  who  came 
soberly  to  kirk  on  Sabbath  and  listened 
to  the  sermon  with  proper  attention 
and  discernment.  To  his  Highland 
members  Sandy  was  a  man  who 
"  would  pe  takin'  more  than  would  pe 
good  for  herself,"  and  by  the  Lowland 
folk  he  was  described  as  apt  to  "taste 
a  wee  oor  muckle." 

As  for  Sandy  himself,  well,  it  was  of 
Sandy  himself  that  the  minister  was 
thinking  as  he  tip-toed  over  the  mud 
puddles  on  that  blustery  morning.  He 
had  decided  to  speak  to  Sandy.  He 
was  on  his  way  now  to  Sandy's  home. 
He  would  be  mild,  but  firm — he  would 
— ah,  there  was  the  subject  of  his 
thoughts  now,  coming  from  the  usual 
direction  of  the  "Rising  Sun,"  jogging 
along  beside  his  old  blind  horse,  across 
whose  saddle  was  lying  a  bag  of  pota- 
toes and  a  small,  suspicious  looking  keg. 

"  Caught  in  the  act,"  thought  the 
minister,  with  a  feeling  very  much  like 
triumph. 

Sandy  on  his  part  was  surprised  to 
feel  a  trifle  sheepish.  Not  that  he  was 
ashamed  of  the  spirituous  burden  car- 
ried by  old  Nancy,  but  because  the 
minister's  absurd  prejudice  about 
"whuskey"  was  well  known.  Sp,  en- 
tirely for  Mr.  MacPherson's  sake,  he 
sought  to  avoid  a  collision  which 
might  prove  embarrassing  to  the 
minister. 

"  It  is  a  fine  morning,  Sandy,"  be- 
gan the  minister,  bringing  old  Nancy 
to  a  standstill  by  a  firm  hold  upon  the 
bridle. 

"  She  would  pe  takin'  home  a  few 
small  potatoes,"  said  Sandy  in  an  ex- 
planatory tone,  going  straight  to  the 
point  at  issue. 

"  Yes,  but  the  keg,  Sandy — what  is 
in  the  keg?" 


THE  DESPAIR  OF  SANDY  MACINTOSH 


553 


To  gain  time,  Sandy  produced  his 
snufF  box  and,  after  tapping  it  nerv- 
ously, offered  it  to  the  minister. 

"  Och,  the  wee  keggie,"  said  he 
cheerfully,  "Och,  nossing — nossingat 
all — a  bit  whuskey  whateffer." 

There  was  an  awful  pause.  Sandy's 
eye  fell  before  the  minister's  and 
Sandy's  feet  began  to  shuffle.  Guile- 
less innocence  was  not  going  to  work 
this  time.  Wildly  he  cast  about  in  his 
mind  for  a  reason — any  reason  which 
would  satisfactorily  explain  the  pres- 
ence of  the  wee  keggie.  His  eye  fell 
upon  the  potato  sack. 

"  Whuskey  and  small  potatoes,"  he 
began  slowly,  then  with  a  burst  of 
confidence — 

"  Whuskey  and  small  potatoes  would 
pe  good  for  the  measles." 

The  minister  sternly  repressed  a 
desire  to  laugh.  Ordinary  men  might 
find  Sandy's  subterfuge  delightful,  but 
in  the  pursuit  of  his  duty  he  was  not 
as  other  men. 

"This  must  cease,  Sandy,"  said  he 
firmly.  "  I  cannot  and  will  not  coun- 
tenance it  any  longer." 

"God  forbid!"  said  Sandy,  greatly 
shocked.  "Itissnot  herself  that  would 
be  asking  you,  Maister  Mac-a-ferson." 

"  But  can't  you  understand  that  as 
long  as  I  permit  you  to  continue  in 
your  service  at  the  kirk  that  I  am 
countenancing  it.  You  must  surely 
see  that,  Sandy."  There  was  real 
distress  in  the  minister's  tone. 

"She  would  not  pe  understanding, 
but  she  would  not  pe  likin'  to  be  vex- 
in'  you,  Maister  Mac-a-ferson,"  said 
Sandy  in  conciliatory  tones. 

"Then  will  you  promise  to  do  bet- 
ter, Sandy — not  to — not  to — visit  the 
wee  keggie  too  often?" 

"Och,  yes,  inteed,  she'll  no  do  that 
whateffer,"  said  Sandy,  earnestly;  "she 
would  not  pe  tastin'  more  nor  would 
pe  good  for  herself." 

And  with  this  the  minister  was  forced 
to  be  content. 

But  it  so  happened  that  that  very 
Saturday  night  the  minister  himself, 
returning  late  from  a  sick  bed,  was 
the  disgusted  spectator  of  Sandy's 
nocturnal  home-bringing. 


Sandy  had  not  broken  his  word. 
His  interpretation  of  what  was  "good 
for  herself"  was  different  from  the  min- 
ister's, that  was  all.  But  Mr.  Mac- 
Pherson  did  not  realise  that  the  fault 
lay  in  his  own  narrow  notion  of  how 
much  a  hard  Scotch  head  can  stand 
and  be  "none  the  worse  whateffer." 
And  so  it  happened  that  while  Sandy 
slept  the  sound  sleep  due  to  a  "wee 
droppie"  and  a  clear  conscience,  the 
minister  sat  in  his  study  and  composed 
a  new  sermon  on  the  text  "Without 
are  drunkards." 

This  was  a  sermon  talked  of  for 
many  a  day  by  those  gentle-minded 
Lowlanders  who  had  the  privilege  of 
hearing  it,  as  "  fut  tae  mak'  the  hair 
Stan'  on  yer  heid,"  and  even  the  stolid 
Highlanders  admitted  that  as  a  dis- 
course it  was  "ferry  powerful  what- 
effer." 

Indeed  the  stern  young  minister 
spoke  from  the  depths  of  his  heart  and 
it  was  not  his  fault  if  those  depths  were 
severely  Calvinisiic.  He  felt  himself 
filled  with  holy  fire,  a  chosen  vessel  for 
the  warning  and  rebuke  of  an  endang- 
ered Israel.  The  hot  words  poured 
from  his  lips,  he  forgot  that  he  was 
young  and  inexperienced  and  that  he 
had  determined  to  go  slowly  and  feel 
his  way.  He  only  remembered  that 
he  was  the  minister  of  God  and  these 
were  his  people  of  whose  spiritual 
welfare  he  must  give  account,  and  the 
congregation  heard  him  gladly,  re- 
joicing to  know  that  the  "  meenister 
was  speakin  oot." 

After  the  service  Mr.  MacPherson 
waited  awhile  in  the  session  room, 
lingering  in  the  hope  that  Sandy,  a 
repentant  sinner,  might  wish  a  word 
with  him.     And  Sandy  came. 

Very  warmly  he  grasped  the  minister 
by  the  hand,  though  this  was  a  salute 
almost  unknown  among  the  undemon- 
strative Highlanders. 

"  Och,  Maister  Mac-a-ferson,"  said 
he  in  frankest  admiration,  "/it  wass  a 
fine  stirrin'  word  that  you  wass 
givin'  us,  och,  yes.  But  herself  was 
sinking  that  if  there  wass  anyone 
that  would  pe  given  to  tastin'  more 
than  wass  good  for  herself  she  would 


554 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


not  pe  feelin'  ferry  comfortable,  what- 
effer." 

When  Sandy  was  gone  the  minister 
sat  down  by  his  open  Bible  and 
laughed  a  little  hysterically.  Perhaps 
it  was  the  reaction  of  the  morning  en- 
thusiasm. 

It  was  that  day  with  the  black  reac- 
tion upon  him  that  he  spoke  of  his 
trouble  to  Alexander  Morrison,  one  of 
the  wildest  yet  most  sympathetic  of 
the  younger  portion  of  his  flock. 

"  The  elders  wont  see  it,  and  Sandy 
can't  see  it,"  he  complained,  "but 
everybody  else  sees  it — and  it  is  a 
scandal  in  the  kirk." 

And  Alick  was  very  sympathetic, 
sajing  that  surely  it  could  not  last 
much  longer;  and,  as  he  said  it,  in  his 
mischievous,  hair-brained  head  a  plan 
grew,  for  Alick  was  very  fond  of  the 
minister  and  Sandy  was  an  old  enemy 
of  his  not  far  distant  youth.  This  plan 
of  his  was  a  flne  plan:  it  would  at  once 
relieve  the  minister  of  the  reproach  of 
Sandy's  carrying  the  "  Book,"  and 
would  provide  for  himself  amusement 
and  revenge. 

So  it  chanced  that  no  one,  with  the 
exception  of  one  conscience-stricken 
scamp,  ever  knew  what  made  poor 
Sandy's  one  wee  drap  so  unusually 
potent  upon  a  certain  Sabbath  morn- 
ing. None  could  guess  the  cause  but 
the  effect  was  patent  to  everyone. 
Elder  Mackay  said  afterwards  that  he 
"saw  somesing  wass  wrong  when 
Sandy  came  in  wis  the  '  Book  '  and  was 
'ferry  sankful  that  the  meenister  would 
not  pe  noticin." 

The  sermon  that  morning  was  upon 
the  text  "  His  own  received  Him  not," 
and  the  minister  was  at  his  best.  His 
voice,  always  low  though  clear  and 
sweet,  was  to-day  deeper  and  more 
tender  than  was  usual.  The  congre- 
gation listened  with  awe  and  rever- 
ence to  what  was  to  them  indeed  and 
in  truth  the  Word  of  the  Lord.  They 
never  for^an  instant  doubted  that  the 
Lord  was  in  His  Holy  Temple.  I  have 
been  in  many  churches  and  listened  to 
many  services  but  I  have  never  found 
the  atmosphere  of  reverent  worship 
which    I    remember  in    the  old  frame 


Presbyterian  kirk  where  our  fathers 
met  their  God. 

Into  the  midst  of  this  solemn  quiet, 
through  which  the  low  voice  of  the 
minister  spoke  to  the  hearts  of  his 
hearers,  broke  a  terrific  snore,  then 
another,  then  another,  then  a  crash, 
for  the  violence  of  the  last  snore  had 
lifted  Sandy  bodily  from  his  seat  and 
deposited  him  upon  the  floor. 

The  minister  paused,  flushed  pain- 
fully, and  then  tried  to  go  on  mechan- 
ically with  his  sermon.  But  he  had 
lost  himself.  Again  and  again  he 
broke,  and  finally,  bringing  his  words 
to  a  hurried  conclusion,  came  down 
from  the  pulpit  and  vanished  into  the 
session  room. 

From  the  first  snore  everybody  knew 
that  Sandy's  fate  was  sealed.  They 
had  no  sympathy  or  consideration  for 
him  now.  He  had  disgraced  himself 
and  defiled  the  kirk  and  shamed  the 
minister.  Never  again  would  he  carry 
the  *'  Book  "  with  stately  step  and  rev- 
erend mien.  His  service  in  the  House 
of  God  was  over. 

The  congregation  dismissed  that 
morning  without  the  singing  of  the 
usual  psalm.  They  went  out  slowly, 
saying  little,  leaving  Sandy  slumbering 
upon  the  floor.  Presently  the  minister 
issued  from  the  session  room  and 
walked  quickly  away,  speaking  to 
no  one.  His  heart  was  full  of 
Godly  rage  towards  poor,  misguided 
Sandy. 

Of  Sandy,  when  he  awoke  in  the 
deserted  kirk  I  may  not  tell.  After  a 
few  minutes'  thought  and  remem- 
brance he  came  to  himself  and  his  heart 
knew  its  own  bitterness.  No  one 
would  have  recognised  in  the  shrunken, 
shamed  man  who  crept  out  of  the  side 
entrance  and  hurried  away,  the  fine, 
erect  officer  of  Embro  kirk.  By  many 
side  ways  he  reached  his  home  and, 
without  a  look  around,  went  in  and 
closed  the  door. 

Two  weeks  afterwards  came  Elder 
Mackay  to  the  minister. 

"  I  would  be  speaking  aboot  Sandy," 
began  the  elder  without  preliminaries. 

"  I  refuse  to  discuss  the  subject," 
said  the  minister  coldly. 


THE  DESPAIR  OF  SANDY  MACINTOSH 


555 


But  the  elder  laid  his  big  hand 
upon  his  arm. 

"She  iss  a  broken  man,  Meenister," 
he  said,  simply,  "and  it  iss  written 
'  the  bruised   reed   will   I  not  break.' " 

The  minister  was  troubled.  He 
knew  that  his  elder  must  have  felt 
deeply  to  have  said  so  much.  For  the 
first  time  in  the  two  weeks  he  felt  a 
little  distrustful  as  to  the  Godliness  of 
his  ra^e  ;  perhaps,  after  all,  he  might — 

"  Where  is  he?"  he  asked  abruptly. 

"She  will  pe  at  home,"  said  Elder 
Mackay  briefly,  knowing  that  he  had 
won  his  point. 

"  I  will  see  him,"  said  the  minister, 
and  taking  their  hats  the  two  set  off  in 
the  direction  of  Sandy's  cottage.  The 
minister  alone  went  in. 

There  was  a  low  fire  in  the  little 
stove  which  had  replaced  the  oldtime 
fireplace  and  over  it  a  man  was  bend- 
ing, a  man  who  was  old  and  bowed 
and  who  did  not  glance  up  as  the  door 
opened.  The  last  trace  of  the  min- 
ister's Godly  rage  vanished  before  that 
silent  despair. 

"Sandy,"  he  said  kindly;  "haven't 
you  a  word  for  me?" 

"  She  would  pe  pleased  to  see  you, 
Maister  Mac-a-ferson,"  said  Sandy  in 
an  expressionless  tone,  rising  painfully 
to  place  a  chair  in  his  old  reverential 
fashion. 

"  You  don't  look  well,  Sandy,"  said 
the  minister  sympathetically. 

"She  is  not  ferry  weel,"  replied 
Sandy  dully. 

Then  the  minister  took  the  bull  by 
the  horns. 

"  When  are  you  coming  back  to  the 
kirk,  Sandy?"  he  asked,  and  no  one  in 
the  congregation  would  have  been  more 
surprised  than  himself  as  he  said  it. 

A  spasm  passed  over  Sandy's  face, 
leaving  it  duller  than  before.  And  for 
the  first  time  the  minister  noticed  the 
whiskey  jug  beside  him  on  the  floor. 
Sandy  did  not  answer. 

"  We  were  very  sorry  for  what  hap- 
pened— "  began  the  minister,  and  then 
he  stopped,  feeling  uneasy,  like  a  man 
who  has  referred  to  another's  shame 
before  his  own  face. 

"  When  are  you  coming  back,  San- 
dy?" he  asked  again.  \ 


Then  Sandy  lifted  his  face  and  looked 
at  him  with  the  look  of  a  man  con- 
demned. 

"  Let  us  pray,"  said  the  minister, 
who  felt  that  in  the  face  of  the  man's 
trouble  he  was  powerless.  He  stood 
and  prayed,  then  he  sat  down  and 
spoke  again  kindly,  encouragingly, 
even  entreatingly,  but  all  his  efforts 
were  as  fruitless  as  if  he  had  beat  his 
hand  against  a  rock. 

It  was  a  minister  with  a  white,  ex- 
hausted face  who  left  Sandy's  door 
that  day  and  joined  the  elder  outside. 
The  two  men  walked  for  a  while  in  si- 
lence. Then  the  elder  asked  nervously: 

"You  will  haf  seen  Sandy,  Maister 
Mac-a-ferson?" 

"  I  have  seen  a  man  who  has  lost 
his  self- respect,"  said  the  minister 
with  a  shudder,  "  and  God  forbid  that 
I  should  ever  see  another." 

The  elder  said  no  more,  but  he  put 
his  sympathy  in  a  handclasp  as  they 
parted. 

Every  day  the  minister  visited  Sandy 
Macintosh,  until  Sandy's  death,  which 
occurred  some  weeks  later,  and  was 
hastened,  as  the  doctor  said,  by  im- 
moderate drinking.  If  that  were  so, 
and  he  sought  relief  in  drinking,  it 
was  certain  that  he  did  not  find  it,  for 
not  once  was  his  brain  stupefied  into 
forgetfulness.  The  heartsick  minister 
toiled  as  he  had  never  toiled  before  to 
win  the  man  back  to  his  self-respect, 
to  give  him  some  hope,  all  without 
avail.  Sandy  spoke  little,  and  seldom 
at  all  to  the  purpose. 

"  She  will  haf  disgraced  the  kirk," 
was  all  that  he  would  ev«r  say.  And 
to  all  the  minister's  pleading  of  ex- 
tenuating circumstances,  of  iafinite 
mercy  and  goodness,  of  hope  for 
everyone,  of  the  experience  of  the 
thief  upon  the  cross,  he  had  but  the 
one  answer: 

"She  will  haf  disgraced  the  kirk." 

That  was  all,  save  once,  when  he 
was  dying,  and  the  minister  hung 
above  him  with  a  prayer  upon  his  lips, 
Sandy's  haunted  eyes  opened  and  his 
gaunt  hand  pointed  somewhere  into 
the  darkness — 

"  Without  are  drunkards!"  he  said, 
and  fell  back  dead. 


A  STREET  SCENE  IN  RUSSIA 

From  '' Chameleon''     By  A.  CHEKHOV 


ROSSING  the  market-place 
goes  Police-Inspector  Och- 
oumilov.  Wrapped  in  his 
cloak  of  military  cut,  he 
might  be  officialism  person- 
ified. And  to  increase  the  illusion, 
behind  him  strides  a  constable  carrying 
a  sieve  piled  high  with  confiscated 
gooseberries.  Not  a  soul  is  to  be  seen 
in  the  Square;  even  the  beggars  have 
vanished;  and  the  open  doors  of  shops 
and  taverns  gape  emptily  at  the  sun- 
shine. 

"You  infamous  cur!  So  you  bite 
— do  you?" 

At  the  sudden  outcry,  Ochoumilov 
and  the  constable  wheel  sharply. 

"Hi,  there!  Catch  him!  Catch 
him!  Don't  let  him  escape!  Yah!" 
And  there  follows  a  yelping,  as  of  an 
animal  in  pain.  Then,  limping  pitifully 
on  three  legs,  a  dog  dashes  out  from 
Pichoogin's  wood-yard.  A  headlong 
figure  follows,  cotton  blouse  and  waist- 
coat flying  in  the  chase.  In  his  mad 
haste  this  person  stumbles,  and, 
measuring  his  length  on  the  ground, 
grabs  the  dog  by  a  hind  leg.  Again 
there  is  a  yelping  and  a  confusion  of 
cries.  Sleepy  faces  are  thrust  from  the 
shops,  and,  as  if  by  magic,  a  crowd 
springs  into  being  and  hurries  towards 
the  wood-yard. 

"  Seemingly  a  disturbance,  your 
Honour,"  remarks  the  discreet  con- 
stable. 

Close  to  the  gate  of  the  yard  the 
man  in  the  unbuttoned  waistcoat  is 
showing  his  hand.  One  of  the  fingers 
is  bloody.  Short  shrift  for  the  dog  if 
he  gets  his  way !  Already  the  finger 
is  waving,  like  a  flag  of  victory,  as  he 
advertises  his  wrongs  to  the  people. 
The  Inspector  recognises  him  as  Hen- 
kin,  the  goldsmith. 

Meanwhile,  in  the  middle  of  the 
crowd,  trembling  pitifully,  and  off'ering 
a  conciliatory  paw  to  anyone  who  will 
shake  it,  sits  the  author  of  all  the  com- 
motion,  a  white  borzoi  puppy  with  a 

556 


very  pointed  nose,  and  a  yellow  mark 
on  his  back.  His  eyes  are  full  of 
terror. 

"  What's  all  this?"  demands  Ochou- 
milov, shouldering  his  way  towards 
the  dog. 

"  Look  at  my  hand,  your  Honour," 
begins  the  goldsmith,  nearly  inarticu- 
late with  rage.  "I  went — I  touched 
nothing,  your  Honour — to  Mitrii  Mit- 
rievitch  for  some  wood,  and  that  mon- 
ster set  on  me!  Look  at  my  finger! 
Mine  is  a  delicate  trade,  and  my  hand 
will  be  useless  for  a  week.  It  is  not 
the  law,  your  Honour,  for  every  cur  to 
bite." 

"  H'm "  remarks  the  inspector, 

his  eyebrows  moving  unpleasantly. 
"Whose  is  the  dog?  It's  high  time 
to  draw  attention  to  this  sort  ot  thing! 
The  owner  of  this  dog  has  infringed  a 
by-law,  and  must  learn  what  the  law 
means  by  *  roving  cattle.'  I  fancy 
he'll  find  the  term  includes  his  mon- 
grels! Eldirin  " — turning  to  the  con 
stable — "summons  the  owner,  and 
kill  the  dog  at  once — it's  mad.  Whose 
is  the  dog,  I  ask?" 

"General  Zigalov's,"  said  a  voice 
in  the  crowd. 

"General  Zigalov's?  H'm.  Eldi- 
rin, take  my  cloak — it  has  got  abom- 
inably hot  suddenly!  Now,  there  is 
just  one  thing  I  cannot  understand, 
Henkin."  And  the  Inspector  turned 
sharply  upon  him.  "  How  could  that 
little  dog  reach  your  finger?  Such  a 
puppy  would  never  attack  a  great 
hulking  fellow  like  you!  You  tore 
your  hand  on  a  nail,  and  then  thought 
to  wreak  your  annoyance  on  the  dog. 
I  know  you!" 

"Your  Honour,  it  happened  in  this 
way,"  said  a  bystander,  coming  for- 
ward. "  He  put  his  cigarette  in  the 
puppy's  face,  for  a  joke.  He's  a  bit 
of  a  wag,  yer  Honour!  And  the  dog 
snapped  at  him.  There's  the  whole 
story  in  a  nutshell!" 

"  You've  invented  it — you  liar!    His 


A  STREET  SCENE  IN  RUSSIA 


557 


Honour,  being  a  wise  man,  can  see  for 
himself  you  are  lying.  He  knows 
when  people  are  speaking  the  truth — 
as  I'm  doing!  If  I'm  lying,  let  the 
magistrates  decide.  All  are  equal  in 
the  law,  and  I've  a  brother  in  the 
police  force.       If  you  want  to  know — " 

"Shut  up!" — interposed  the  con- 
stable. "That's  not  the  General's 
dog.  He  doesn't  keep  borzois;  his 
kennels  are  for  pointers." 

"Are  you  sure  of  that?"  asked 
Ochoumilov. 

"  Positive,  your  Honour." 

"  I  believe  you.  The  General's  dogs, 
at  least,  are  thoroughbred;  while  this 
beast  is  a  mongrel — no  coat — no  man- 
ners! The  General  wouldn't  keep  such 
a  cur;  they're  crazy  to  suppose  it!  If 
this  had  happened  in  Petersburg,  or 
Moscow,  the  beast  would  have  been 
destroyed  by  now — and  without  con- 
sulting anybody!  However,  since  you 
have  been  injured,  Henkin,  I  shall  not 
allow  the  affair  to  stop  here.  One 
must  set  things  to  rights.  It  is  high 
time—" 

"  All  the  same,  the  dog  is  the  Gen- 
eral's," insisted  the  voice  in  the  crowd 
— "it's  not  written  in  the  animal's  face, 
but  I  saw  one  exactly  like  it  in  his 
courtyard  the  other  day." 

"Of  course,  it  is  the  General's," 
declared  another  bystander. 

"  H'm.  Give  me  my  cloak,  Eldirin. 
How  the  wind  is  rising — it's  quite 
cold."  Ochoumilov  was  visibly  per- 
turbed. "  Eldirin,  you  will  take  the 
dog  to  the  General's  house.  Ask  there. 
Say  I  found  and  sent  him.  And  tell 
them  not  to  let  him  run  in  the  street. 
If  he's  valuable,  and  every  pig  pokes 
a  cigar  up  his  nose,  it  won't  take  long 
to  disfigure  him.  You  great  block- 
head"— turning   on    the    goldsmith — 


"  put  down  your  idiotic  hand.  It's  no 
use  showing  your  finger.  Your  own 
fault  entirely." 

At  that  moment,  the  General's  cook 
was  seen  coming  round  the  corner. 
The  Inspector  looked  relieved.  "  I'll 
ask  him.  Wait  a  minute,  Eldirin. 
Hi,  Drobar!  Do  you  know  this  dog? 
Is  he  yours?" 

"Ours?  What  an  idea!  Never  had 
such  a  creature  in  our  kennels." 

"Then  that  settles  it.  The  dog  is 
a  stray  mongrel.  No  need  to  waste 
more  words.  If  I  say  he  is  mongrel, 
he  :>  a  mongrel!  Take  and  kill  him 
at  once,  Eldirin.  There,  that's  all." 
And  Ochoumilov  turned  on  his  heel. 

"The  dog  is  not  ours,"  continued 
Drobar,  as  if  there  had  been  no  inter- 
ruption. "He  belongs  to  the  General's 
brother,  Vladimir  Ivanovitch,  who 
came  the  other  day.  The  General 
doesn't  keep  borzois,  but  his  brother 
has  a  fancy  for  them." 

"Heavens!  Vladimir  Ivanovitch 
here!"  exclaimed  Ochoumilov,  his  face 
aglow  with  pleasure.  "Has  become 
to  stay?" 

"On  a  visit,  yes." 

"And  to  think  I  never  knew!  I'm 
glad  no  harm  came  to  his  puppy. 
Take  him,  Drobar.  He's  right  enough 
— a  little  playful,  that's  all.  He  bit 
that  fellow's  finger — showed  his  sense, 
as  well  as  his  teeth,  eh?  Ha!  ha!  ha! 
Why  are  you  trembling  so,  puppy? 
I  declare  the  rascal's  quite  cross. 
Good  dog,  then!     Hi!  good  dog!" 

Drobar  called  to  the  borzoi,  and  the 
two  went  out  of  the  wood-yard.  The 
crowd,  having  nothing  to  do,  began 
to  chaff  the  goldsmith.  And  Ochou- 
milov, followed  by  the  constable,  con- 
tinued his  walk  across  the  market- 
place. 


CANADIAN  VS.  UNITED  STATES 
ENGINEERS 

AND  SOME  RAILWAY  HISTORY 

By  JAMES  JOHNSTON 


T  will  be  remembered  that, 
in  May  of  last  year,  the 
gfovernment  appointed 
Judg^e  Winchester  a  com- 
missioner to  inquire  into 
the  alleged  employment  of  aliens  by 
or  on  behalf  of  the  Grand  Trunk  Pa- 
cific Railway,  Many  complaints  had 
been  made  to  the  Minister  of  Labour 
that  Canadian  and  British  subjects 
were  beingf  excluded  from  the  survey 
work  of  the  proposed  national  trans- 
continental railway.  As  a  result  of 
these,  a  Royal  Commission  was  ap- 
pointed, and  pursued  its  investigations. 
The  report  of  the  Commissioner  is  now 
published. 

The  results  of  the  investigation  were 
published  from  time  to  time  in  the 
press,  and  are  familiar  to  most  of 
those  interested.  It  was  shown  that 
a  Canadian  was  offered  the  position  of 
Assistant  Chief  Engineer  at  $4,000, 
and  when  he  refused  it,  it  was  given 
to  a  United  States  engineer  at  $7,500. 
Many  of  the  assistant  engineers  were 
United  States  citizens,  and  few  Cana- 
dians were  given  an  opportunity.  As 
a  consequence  of  the  interim  reports 
of  the  Commissioner,  twenty-four  per- 
sons were  reported  for  deportation 
under  the  alien  labour  laws.  The 
conclusion  of  the  Commissioner  is  as 
follows: 

"  As  the  result  of  the  evidence  taken 
before  me  during  the  investigation  I 
am  of  opinion  that  there  was  no  earn- 
est endeavour  made  to  obtain  Cana- 
dian engineers  for  the  location  of  the 
Grand  Trunk  Pacific  Railway  by  those 
having  authority  to  employ  such;  that 
had  such  an  effort  been  made  there 
would  have  been  no  difficulty  in  ob- 
taining a  sufficient  number  capable  not 
only  of  locating,  but  of  constructing 
the  whole  work.      In  the  word  *engi- 

558 


neers'  I  include  all  from  the  chief 
engineer  and  harbour  engineer  to  the 
transitmen,  draughtsmen,  levellers  and 
topographers.  There  was,  however, 
a  very  earnest  desire  to  obtain  Ameri- 
can engineers  for  the  work,  and  in 
some  cases  applications  were  made  to 
the  heads  of  other  railway  companies 
to  relieve  men  for  the  purpose  of  hav- 
ing thern  brought  to  Canada  to  be 
employed  on  this  road.  I  have  already 
stated  the  number  of  American  engi- 
neers so  employed.  I  find  also  from 
the  evidence  that  the  Canadian  engi- 
neers are  not  inferior  to  the  American 
engineers  for  the  work  in  question,  but 
having  a  superior  knowledge  of  the 
country,  they  are  better  qualified  for 
that  work.  I  also  desire  to  state  that 
the  Canadian  engineers  are  not  asking 
for  protection  for  themselves,  but 
merely  desire  that  no  discrimination  be 
made  against  them.  That  discrimin- 
ation has  been  made  against  them,  in 
my  opinion,  there  is  no  doubt." 

Not  the  least  interesting  of  the 
testimony  presented  in  that  report,  is 
that  of  Sir  Sandford  Fleming.  Sir 
Sandford  organised  and  directed  the 
surveys  of  the  Intercolonial  before 
Confederation;  and  was  continued  as 
engineer-in-chief  to  design  and  direct 
its  construction  by  the  Federal  auth- 
orities. In  1871  he  was  appointed  to 
conduct  exploratory  surveys  for  the 
railway  which  it  was  proposed  to  build 
across  the  newly  acquired  territory 
from  the  Ottawa  to  British  Columbia, 
and  was  subsequently  charged  with  the 
construction  of  the  Canadian  Pacific 
Railway  as  a  government  work. 

It  may  be  well  to  recall  that  Sir 
John  Macdonald's  government  went 
down  in  1873  because  of  the  Pacific 
scandal — the  name  of  the  historical 
event  resulting  from  the  first  deal  be- 


CANADIAN  VS.    UNITED  STATES  ENGINEERS 


559 


tween  a  govern- 
ment and  a  trans- 
continental railway 
company.  In  1874, 
the  Hon.  Alexander 
Mackenzie's  gov- 
ernment passed  an 
act  authorising  him 
to  borrow  ;^8,ooo,- 
000,  aided  by  an 
Imperial  guarantee 
for  a  portion  of  it. 
This  was  to  enable 
him  to  build  the 
"Canadian  Pacific 
Railway"  from  a 
point  near  to  or 
south  of  Lake  Nip- 
issing  to  some  point 
in  British  Columbia 
on  the  Pacific  Coast. 
It  was  to  be  built 
by  private  contracts 
under  government 
supervision.  In 
1875,  work  was  be- 
gun at  Thunder  Bay 
on  Lake  Superior, 
and  aline  was 
pushed  through 
nearly  to  Winni- 
peg. Mr.  Macken- 
zie was  defeated  in 
1878,  and  Sir  John 
Macdonald  return- 
ed to  power.  He 
continued  the  work 
with  variations  in 
the  route.  He  built 
nearly  a  hundred 
miles  westward 
from  the  Red  River 
and  about  the  same 
length  of  line  in 
British  Columbia. 

In  1879,  the  fam- 
ous syndicate  was 
formed  to  take  over 
the  line  from  the 
government,  and  it 
was  given  the  three 
partially  completed 
sections:  Lake  Su- 
perior to   Emerson, 


^■^ 


560 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


Emerson  to  St.  Boniface,  and  Burrard's 
Inlet,  B.C.,  to  Savona's  Ferry,  on 
Kamloops  lake. 

This  explains  why  the  work  was  in 
charge  of  Sir  Sandford  Fleming"  until 
1880,  and  not  afterwards.  The  new 
company  employed  its  own  engineers. 
With  this  explanation.  Sir  Sandford's 
evidence  before  the  Commissioner  will 
be  better  understood.  It  throws  a 
most  interesting  historical  sidelight  on 
the  building  of  the  Canadian  Pacific 
through  the  Rockies.    In  part,  he  said: 

"All  the  enjijineers  under  me  on  the 
Intercolonial,  the  Newfoundland  and 
the  Canadian  Pacific  Railway  explora- 
tions, location  surveys,  or  construc- 
tion, were  Canadians.  Some  were 
born  in  the  United  Kingdom,  but  all 
were  British  subjects,  and  all  were 
residents  in  Canada  or  in  some  portion 
of  British  North  America  when  they 
were  engaged.  Such  engineers  were 
quite  equal  in  ability,  and  generally 
speaking  were  fully  as  capable  in  the 
performance  of  their  duties  as  any  en- 
gineers from  the  United  States  whom 
I  have  known.  No  difficulty  was  ex- 
perienced in  securing  Canadian  engi- 
neering talent  forty  years  ago  for  the 
Intercolonial  Railway  and  since  then 
for  the  Canadian  Pacific  Railway.  A 
large  number  of  men  have  gained  good 
experience  on  these  and  othe.  lines. 
The  Military  College  at  Kingston  and 
the  Canadian  Universities  have  long 
been  training  young  men  for  engineer- 
ing work,  and  many  of  them  have  for 
years  been  employed  on  the  survey  and 
construction  of  railways  and  other 
work,  and  are  now  quite  ready  to  fill 
similar  positions.  I  am  perfectly  sat- 
isfied that  we  have  to-day  in  Canada 
an  ample  number  of  skilled  men  to 
carry  on  and  complete  the  new  national 
railway 

*'  The  work  performed  by  the  Cana- 
dian engineers  on  the  several  under- 
takings to  which  I  have  referred,  bears 
enduring  testimony  to  their  attain- 
ments. If  we  turn  for  a  moment  to 
the  work  of  these  Canadians  between 
the  years  187 1  and  1880,  in  connection 
with  the  Canadian  Pacific  Railway,  we 


have  the  very  best  evidence  of  the 
value  of  their  qualifications.  More- 
over, if  we  follow  the  enquiry  we  are 
afforded  the  means  of  comparing  their 
work  with  the  work  accomplished  in 
the  same  field  by  engineers  from  the 
United  States. 

"  At  the  close  of  the  period  named, 
the  Canadian  Pacific  Railway  was 
under  active  construction  at  both  ends 
and  in  the  middle.  An  admirable  loca- 
tion for  it  was  found  through  the 
Rocky  Mountain  zone  with  gradients 
quite  as  good  from  end  to  end  as  on 
the  railways  in  a  comparatively  level 
country  like  Ontario.  All  was  accom- 
plished by  Canadians,  without  seeking 
for  the  smallest  assistance  from  alien 
talent. 

"  We  now  reach  a  date  when  engi- 
neers from  the  United  States  were 
called  in,  and  who  after  controlled  the 
location  of  a  portion  ol  the  first  trans- 
continental railway.  Fortunately  they 
could  make  no  change  in  the  location 
of  those  portions  of  the  line  in  pro- 
cess of  construction  by  the  Govern- 
ment, east  of  Winnipeg  and  west  of 
Kamloops;  but  changes  were  sought 
for  and  made  by  them  with  a  free  hand 
between  Winnipeg  and  Kamloops. 
Under  the  new  regime  the  excellent 
location  of  the  Canadian  engineers  was 
set  aside,  and  on  this  section  a  greatly 
inferior  location  adopted.  Thus  it  was 
that  the  Canadian  Pacific  Railway  has 
been  lowered  in  its  engineering  fea- 
tures, especially  through  the  moun- 
tains. Thus  it  was  that  blemishes  of 
a  grave  and  costly  kind  have  been  be- 
queathed to  all  future  generations,  for 
the  blemishes  referred  to  are  of  a  char- 
acter which  time  cannot  lessen  or  re- 
move; and  thus  it  is  that  the  daily  cost 
of  operating  the  line  for  all  time  has 
been  increased.  For  these  regrettable 
defects  the  Canadian  engineers  are  in 
no  way  responsible;  but  to  all  who 
know  the  facts  they  bring  out  in 
striking  contrast  the  results  of  the 
labours  of  the  two  sets  of  engineers." 

Sir  Sandford's  testimony  is  accom- 
panied by  a  map,  which  is  reproduced 
here  also. 


THESE  pages  have  for  months  back 
been  chiefly  concerned  in  recount- 
ing events  in  which  the  Russian  Em- 
pire has  borne  a  conspicuous  part. 
Nor  does  there  seem  any  probability 
that  she  will  soon  cease  to  be  an  object 
of  interest  among  the  nations  of  the 
earth.  The  interest  she  formerly  ex- 
cited was  that  which  avast,  proud  and 
aggressive  power  is  sure  to  occasion 
amongst  her  neighbours.  What  we 
witness  now  is  her  pride  brought  low, 
and  her  aggressiveness  signally  chal- 
lenged and  punished.  Her  case  stands 
alone  in  history,  and  it  is  not  wonder- 
ful that  it  should  be  so.  A  nation 
which  in  the  twentieth  century  is  still 
clothed  in  the  social  and  political  habil- 
iments of  the  twelfth  may  expect  to 
be  thought  oddly  conspicuous.  A 
great  deal  has  certainly  happened  to 
Russia.  It  would  be  impossible  to 
imagine  a  country  of  such  real  power 
in  so  pitiable  a  plight.  The  fleet  with 
which  she  proposed  to  dominate  the 
Pacific  is  at  the  bottom  of  the  ocean; 
the  fortress  with  which  she  proposed 
to  overawe  the  whole  East  is  pulver- 
ised and  in  the  hands  of  the  enemy; 
the  second  fleet  with  which  she  pro- 
posed to  regain  her  prestige  is  skulk- 
ing in  unknown  seas,  not  daring  to  go 
on  for  fear's  sake  and  not  daring  to  go 
home  for  shame's  sake;  and,  last  of  all, 
its  colossal  army,  driven  in  irretriev- 
able defeat  towards  the  mountains, 
has  practically  ceased  to,  exist. 

And  what  is  the  aspect  of  its  sub- 
jects towards  these  disasters?  We 
are  told  that  the  Liberals  were  hoping 
that  the  battle  of  the  Shakhe  river 
would  be  a  defeat  for  Russia,  and  a 
defeat  so  decisive  that  there  would  be 
no  doubt  about  it.  A  victory  would 
only  delay  the  reforms  that  are  being 

561 


pressed  for.  The  internal  condition  is 
typified  by  the  assassination  of  the 
Grand  Duke  Sergius,  following  on  the 
recent  slaughter  in  the  streets  of  St. 
Petersburg  of  the  striking  workmen 
and  their  kindred.  It  is  always  con- 
sidered that  the  test  of  a  civilised  so- 
ciety is  its  guarantee  to  the  humblest 
citizen  of  protection  in  the  enjoyment 
of  his  life  and  property.  This  common 
boon  Russia  cannot  guarantee  to  those 
who  scarcely  deem  themselves  merely 
human,  but  arrogate  to  themselves 
almost  divine  sanction  and  sanctity. 
Long  ago  its  government  was  called 
an  autocracy  tempered  by  assassina- 
tion. The  description  continues  to  be 
fearfully  true.  It  is  almost  grotesque 
to  speak  of  the  omnipotent  autocrat, 
when  he  and  every  one  related  to  him 
are  virtually  prisoners  in  their  palaces, 
and  not  safe  even  there,  and  while  no- 
tices are  posted  on  their  gates  that 
sentence  of  death  has  been  passed  upon 
them.  Two  Czars  in  the  last  century 
died  by  the  hand  of  the  assassin,  and 
scarcely  one  escaped  an  attempt  on  his 
life.  Within  the  past  four  years  half- 
a-dozen  of  the  instruments  of  autoc- 
racy have  been  miserably  slain.  The 
acceptance  of  the  more  ungrateful 
offices  is  a  short  way  to  an  early  death. 

"Si 

What  will  be  the  final  outcome? 
Matters  cannot  remain  as  they  are.  It 
has  arrived  at  a  point  where  flesh  and 
blood  cannot  stand  to  be  crucified  any 
further.  The  terrible  disasters  to 
Russian  arms  come  as  an  irresistible 
hammer  to  break  down  the  barricades 
that  the  civil  spirit  has  already  under- 
mined and  weakened.  Intimations 
have  come  that  the  Czar  is  disposed  to 
make  some  concessions  to  the  evangel 
of  social  and  political  freedom.  But 
he  will  be  known  to  history  as  Nicho- 


562 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


FIRST  ADVANCES 


Russian  Bear  (tentatively),  "  Ahem  " — Punch 

(The  latest  reports  from  Russia  seem  to  indicate  that  peace  is  in 
sig'ht.     The  reasons  for  it  seem  almost  irresistible). 


las  the  Late.  He  had  his  opportunity 
before  his  subjects  were  slaughtered  by 
the  soldiers  on  the  streets  of  every 
great  city  within  his  dominions.  He 
had  his  chance  before  his  uncle  was 
blown  to  shreds  almost  within  sight  of 
his  wife.  What  he  might  have  con- 
ceded to  liberalism  he  now  concedes 
to  what  will  be  interpreted  as  force 
and  fear. 

He  is  more  to  be  pitied  than  cen- 
sured, however.  Enmeshed  in  the 
Russian  system,  it  would  require  a 
great  and  original  character  to  break 
out  of  the  net.  There  are  not  want- 
ing indications  that  his  tendencies  are 


humane  and  even  al- 
truistic. In  the  face 
of  threatened  revolu- 
tion, however,  he  re- 
members that  the 
amiable  and  harmless 
Louis  XVI  died  on  the 
scaffold,  and  that  his 
own  grandfather, 
whose  heart  was  full 
of  love  for  his  subjects 
and  concern  for  their 
welfare,  was  assassin- 
ated with  as  little 
mercy  as  if  he  had 
been  the  most  oppres- 
sive of  tyrants.  What 
a  position  to  be  in  ! 
He  must  crush  down 
his  better  self  in  order 
to  maintain  traditions 
that  he  dimly  or  clear- 
ly apprehends  to  be 
wrong.  Autocracy, 
moreover,  has  been 
found  out.  Heredity 
cannot  be  depended 
upon  to  produce  a 
succession  of  Peter 
the  Greats.  There  is 
no  such  thing  in  the 
world,  of  course,  as  a 
pure  autocracy.  The 
Czar  is  influenced,  or 
perhaps  even  guided, 
by  the  great  public 
servants  whom  he 
chooses,  but  even  these  are  apt  to  re- 
flect the  weaknesses  or  shortcomings 
of  their  master,  and  there  is  no  sphere 
in  which  honest  merit  has  so  little 
chance  of  being  recognised  at  its  true 
worth  as  in  the  atmosphere  of  a  court. 
In  M.  de  Witte  the  Czar  has  a  man 
who  has  a  right  concept  of  what 
Russia's  policy  should  be.  Internal 
development  was  his  watchword,  but 
the  gentlemen  with  a  spirited  foreign 
policy,  if  they  had  not  the  young  Czar's 
ear,  were  at  least  too  bold  and  spirited 
and  too  strongly  supported  by  dead 
Romanoff  policy  and  living  Romanoff 
relations,  to  be  resisted.  And  they 
have  led  him  where  he  is! 


CURRENT  EVENTS  ABROAD 


563 


Will  peace  negotiations  now  be  en- 
tered on?  At  the  moment  of  writing" 
the  extent  of  the  disaster  on  the 
Shakhe  river  is  not  known,  but  it  has 
all  the  appearance  of  an  irretrievable 
overthrow.  The  mere  commissariat 
losses  at  this  time  of  year  are  over- 
whelming. Manchuria  must  be  thread- 
bare, and  even  the  seeding  has  not 
been  done  for  another  harvest.  Man- 
churia is  unquestionably  lost  to  Rus- 
sia, for,  humanly  speaking,  it  could 
never  be  again  regained.  St.  Peters- 
burg may  make  whatever  wry  faces  it 
pleases,  and  may  postpone  the  un- 
pleasant avowal  of  complete  defeat  for 
a  time,  but  eventually  it  will  have  to 
take  whatever  reasonable  terms  Japan 
may  propose.  And  however  reason- 
able they  may  be,  they  will  be  an  as- 
surance that  the  Muscovite  dream  of 
vast  empire  in  the  Far  East  must  re- 
main a  dream  only.  The  railway  for 
which  such  sacrifices  were  made  will 
run  for  hundreds  of  miles  through 
Chinese  territory  and  under  neutral 
control;  the  Gibraltar,  which  was  to  be 
the  impregnable  defence  of  its  Pacific 
terminus,  will  be  in  the  hands  of  Japan; 
the  not  unnatural  hope  that  Russia 
would  one  day  control  China's  myriads 
must  be  forever  abandoned;  and,  in 
short,  vast  schemes  of  dominion  un- 
equalled since  Genghis  Khan  overran 
Asia  have  tumbled  down  like  a  house  of 
cards.  The  reflection  that  must  be  a 
bitter  one  to  Russian  statesmen  is  that 
the  wreck  has  been  caused  by  a  little 
people  whom  they  chose  to  treat  with 
haughty  contempt,  and  it  must  be  said 
with  stupid  lack  of  discernment.  We 
have  heard  a  great  deal  in  the  past  of 
the  superior  knowledge  of  foreign  peo- 
ples which  Russia's  emissaries  dis- 
played. The  first  time  it  was  really 
tried  it  was  shown  to  be  virtually  non- 
existent. The  officials  who  failed  to 
see  how  formidable  a  power  they  were 
bullying  and  aggravating  into  hostili- 
ties, cannot  be  credited  with  supernat- 
ural vision.  A  little  more  of  the  fox 
and  less  of  the  rough  bear  would  have 
been  good  policy — for  a  few  years,  at 
all  events. 


Japan  has  become  one  of  the  world's 
great  powers.  Her  sphere  of  influ- 
ence, of  course,  is  in  the  Pacific  and 
the  Far  East.  There  she  is  master. 
The  United  States  has  a  large  Pacific 
littoral,  but  it  cannot  hope  to  be  ranked 
before  Japan.  Marshal  Oyama  is  be- 
ing called  the  Japanese  Napoleon,  but 
Napoleon  never  had  such  soldiers 
under  him  as  this  grey-bearded  Japan- 
ese marshal.  He  sets  his  men  impos- 
sible tasks  and  they  accomplish  them. 
The  power  of  patriotism  when  it  be- 
comes a  fanatical  religion  is  seen  to 
be  irresistible.  Oyama,  unlike  Na- 
poleon, is  slow  in  the  dispositions  of 
his  enormous  forces,  but  his  combina- 
tions, when  the  day  of  action  comes, 
always  connect,  and  he  has  the  utmost 
faith  that  his  men  will  effect  the  tasks 
allotted  to  them.  He  scattered  his 
columns  over  an  immense  territory. 
The  obvious  danger  was  that  Kuro- 
patkin  would  break  through  them  and 
the  flanker  find  himself  flanked.  The 
amazing  valour  of  his  men  appears  to 
have  made  this  impossible,  and  he  has 
used  his  innumerable  array  like  a  ruth- 
less and  relentless  chain,  ever  tighten- 
ing its  unbreakable  grip  until  the  Rus- 
sian host  was  strangled  in  its  coils. 

Under  the  pressure  of  military  disas- 
ter and  civil  commotion  the  Czar  has, 
with  evident  reluctance,  intimated  that 
a  representative  assembly  would  be 
called  in  which  all  classes  will  have  a 
right  to  be  heard.  There  is  already 
known  to  the  Russian  system  a  consul- 
tative assembly  of  notables  known  as 
the  Zemski  Sobor.  It  has  not  been 
convened  in  the  past  200  years,  but  it 
is  not  bad  policy  to  revive  a  suspended 
institution  and  improve  it  if  necessary 
rather  then  adopt  machinery  wholly 
new.  Those  who  have  read  Sir  Don- 
ald Mackenzie  Wallace's  account  of 
the  village  councils  or  mir  and  the 
zemstvo  or  district  assembly,  will 
scarcely  agree  that  Russia  is  quite  un- 
fit for  representative  institutions.  It 
would  undoubtedly  be  the  part  of  wis- 
dom to  feel  the  way  carefully,  but  it  is 


5^4 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


ROPED 


An  elopement  that  has  been  declared  off.— New  York  World 

(The  Senate  has  blocked  President  Roosevelt's  half  dozen  of 
arbitration  agreements  with  leading-  European  nations.) 


not  at  all  likely  that  there  are  one- 
quarter  the  dangers  in  granting  a  con- 
stitution that  there  are  in  refusing 
one. 

The  United  States  are  practically 
committed  to  taking  charge  of  Santo 
Domingo  until  the  foreign  creditor  has 
his  little  bills  settled  and  a  financial 
equilibrium  is  established.  President 
Castro  of  Venezuela  will  probably  soon 
find  himself  in  the  same  position.  It 
is  not  a  pleasant  task,  but  the  Monroe 
doctrine  has  its  duties  and  responsi- 
bilities as  well  as  its  glories.  The 
other  nations  of  the  earth  may  well 
evince  their  benevolent  satisfaction  at 
this  attempt  to  make  the  notorious 
republics  of  the  south  behave  with 
honesty  and  moderation. 


The  Senate  virtually 
spoiled  the  efforts  made 
by  President  Roosevelt 
and  his  able  Secretary  of 
State  to  give  the  Hague 
Arbitration  Court  a  sig- 
nificant recognition  by 
providing  the  submissioo 
to  it  of  such  legal  and  in- 
terpretation questions  as 
could  not  be  accommo- 
dated by  diplomacy.  The 
agreements  had  been 
made  with  half  a-dozeo 
powers  including  Great 
Britain.  The  Senate^ 
however,  inserted  a  pro- 
vision that  the  submis- 
sion of  each  particular 
question  should  be  first 
approved  by  the  Senate 
in  the  form  of  a  treaty. 
The  President,  in  a  vigor- 
ous letter,  declared  that 
this  addition  took  all  the 
virtue  out  of  the  work  of 
the  administration. 

There  is,  indeed,  a  quite  evident  tend- 
ency on  the  part  of  the  Senators  ta 
put  a  spoke  in  the  Roosevelt  wheel, 
not  that  he  is  persona  non  grata,  but 
because  his  firm  attitude  on  railroad 
and  trust  questions  has  made  him  some 
enemies  amongst  that  gathering  of  the 
friends  of  monopoly  in  its  various 
forms.  There  is  plenty  of  evidence 
that  the  country  is  with  the  President 
and  that  if  the  fight  keeps  up  long 
enough  the  President's  desire  not  to  be 
a  candidate  in  1908  will  be  swept  aside 
by  an  irresistible  public  determination 
to  keep  at  the  White  House  a  strong 
and  courageous  enemy  of  public  plun- 
derers, however  strongly  entrenched 
behind  custom  and  capital.  But  that 
is  a  considerable  time  to  look  ahead. 
John  A.   Ewan. 


# 


"  I  heard 

One  speak  of  you  but  lately,  and  for  days, 

Only  to  think  of  it  my  soul  was  stirred 

In. ,^ the    tender    memory    uf    such    generous 

praise."  — Prvctor. 

THERE  is  a  strange  fallacy  which 
says  that  women  are  hard  on 
their  own  sex.  To  a  woman  it  is  a 
matter  of  wonderment  how  such  a 
thought  originated.  As  a  matter  of 
fact,  a  woman  involuntarily  turns  to 
and  clings  to  a  woman  in  times  of  trib- 
ulation and  the  mother  instinct  natur- 
ally implants  sympathy  for  women 
which  could  not  be  found  elsewhere. 
This  is  not  meant  to  cast  any  reflection 
on  men,  except  in  the  way  of  remind- 
ing them  that  they  are  sometimes  too 
ready  to  cry,  "Trust  a  woman  to  be 
hard  on  a  woman !"  Perhaps  they  are 
not  aware,  as  many  women  could  tell 
them,  that  it  is  always  to  a  woman 
that  a  poorer  woman  comes  when  in 
trouble;  we  have  this  exemplified  re- 
peatedly in  our  homes  by  the  back- 
door habitant.  Not  to  speak  boast- 
fully, for  I  am  speaking  of  the  sex  at 
large,  it  very  often  occurs  to  me  that 
men  scarcely  know  the  little  sympa- 
thies that  are  extended  by  women  to 


women.  The  libel  on  our  sex, 
which  it  really  is,  simply  re- 
solves itself  into  this  fact :  A 
woman  who  is  hard  on  a  woman  is 
one  who  will  be  hard  on  everyone, 
possibly  on  her  own  children.  She 
ranks  the  same  as  the  man  who 
would  kick  a  maimed  animal. 
Thank  heaven  there  are  not  many 
of  either  class! 


AN  interesting  'thought  has  for 
some  time  been  holding  the 
minds  of  Swiss  scientists.  It  should 
appeal  to  all  nations  and  classes  of 
people  who  desire  to  never  grow  old 
and  who  wish  to  look  forward  to  cele- 
brating their  two  hundredth  birthday 
by  leading  a  cotillion.  And  such  a 
simple  matter  that  any  intelligent 
house- wife  could  grasp!  The  Swiss 
scientists  claim  that  by  distilling  water, 
which  removes  all  the  lime,  thus  doing 
away  with  the  dread  enemy  of  youth, 
we  shall  have  left  water  of  the  purity 
and  liquid  enchantment  of  the  gods! 
The  Swiss  gentlemen  have  proved 
their  theory  by  literally  "trying  it  on 
the  dog."  They  took  two  canines,  fed 
one  on  distilled  water  and  the  other 
on  ordinary  spring  water  for  two  years. 
After  the  two  years  had  elapsed  the 
dogs  were  killed  and  a  sample  of  their 
blood  and  bone  analysed.  The  dog 
fed  on  distilled  water  had  aged  exactly 
one-third  more  slowly  than  the  animal 
who  had  been  consuming  a  certain 
amount  of  lime.  We  are  told  that  a 
still  can  be  ordered  from  a  tinsmith  at 
the  small  cost  of  a  few  shillings. 


THE    rage    for    Bridge   holds    in   it 
some  material  for  thought.     Any 
one  who  has   played   Bridge  (and   not 


565 


566 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


to  have  played  Bridge  means  not  to 
have  lived  in  these  strenuous  days), 
must  have  noticed  the  effect  on  some 
women's  dispositions  that  this  g-ame 
has.  Physicians  who  are  ardent 
Bridgfe  players,  will  explain  to  you 
that  the  danger  lies  in  the  close  con- 
finement, as  some  enthusiastic  players 
in  our  midst  play  Bridge  five  after- 
noons a  week  and  sometimes  six;  that 
this  habit  of  hiding  one's  self  away  from 
the  sunlight  and  sitting  for  three  hours 
each  day  in  an  artificial  light  is  scarce- 
ly beneficial  to  the  physical  side  of  a 
woman's  nature.  This  is  no  doubt 
true,  but  there  is  a  deeper  danger  even 
than  this.  It  is  the  effect  on  the  men- 
tal and,  one  might  say  moral,  side  of 
one's  nature.  There  is  a  spirit  of 
selfishness  and  a  peculiar  covetousness 
which,  when  brought  into  play  five 
days  a  week,  holds  a  danger  of  im- 
planting permanent  results. 

Apart  from  all  underlying  thought, 
women  who  are  inveterate  Bridge 
players  should  remember  that  sunlight 
and  fresh  air  are  more  worthy  of  being 
sought  after  than  extraordinary  skill 
in  any  prevailing  rage. 


A  WOMAN  writer  in  a  reputable 
current  magazine  has  been  dis- 
cussing the  decadence  of  story-writ- 
ing. She  very  nearly  touches  the 
truth  when  she  tells  us  that  we  shall 
have  nothing  great  to  hand  down  to 
posterity;  that  we  have  had  no  Dick- 
ens or  Scott  or  Thackeray,  or,  in  fact, 
anyone  with  anything  pertaining  to 
the  greatness  of  the  old  writers  of 
imaginary  literature. 

It  is  a  peculiar  fact,  not  touched 
upon  by  the  above  writer,  that  every- 
thing connected  with  science  and  dis- 
covery has  undergone  a  wonderful 
evolution  in  the  past  few  decades, 
while  the  arts  have  really  not  kept 
pace.  More  may  be  known  of  the 
theory  of  the  different  arts,  but  the 
fact  remains  that  the  efforts  of  the  in- 
dividual have  not  only  remained  at  a 
standstill,  but  seem  to  have  degener- 
ated. Even  such  men  as  Leighton 
and    Bourne-Jones    could    scarcely  be 


placed  beside  Raphael  or  Reynolds. 
The  same  may  be  applied  to  sculpture, 
and,  in  the  matter  of  literature,  we  cer- 
tainly have  no  master  intellects  which 
we  could  place  beside  the  old  writers. 
I  am  speaking  solely  of  imaginative 
work.  The  deeper  fields  of  thought 
have  an  entirely  different  aspect.  As 
a  matter  of  example,  Spencer  and 
Ruskin  could  certainly  be  placed  side 
by  side  with  the  greatest  writers  of 
their  class.  Perhaps  Stevenson  is  the 
one  imaginative  writer  who  possessed 
some  of  the  genius  of  the  past. 

Making  a  careful  analysis  of  the 
present  day  writers,  from  a  realistic 
standpoint,  perhaps  the  entire  lack  ot 
genuine  humour  is  the  most  noticeable 
deficiency  and,  after  all,  the  chief 
characteristic  of  story-writing  should 
be  to  amuse.  Where,  in  the  course 
of  a  year's  reading,  could  we  find  any- 
thing so  distractingly  funny  as  the 
humorous  characters  in  Pickwick,  or 
the  jovial  ex-collector  of  Boggley  Wol- 
lah  in  Vanity  Fair? 

The  modern  story  is  typical  of  the 
times.  It  caters  to  a  species  of  rapid 
transit  mind  development. 

Esther  Talbot  Kingsmill 


SPRING'S  MEANINGS 

"  Like  tulip-beds  of  different  shapes  and  dyes 

Bending    benealh    th'    invisible    west-wind's 

sighs."  — Moore 

AT  the  time  of  writing,  the  March 
sunset,  watched  from  an  upper 
window,  grows  a  richer  yellow  every 
minute — sure  prophet  of  wind;  and 
this  reminds  me  that  to-morrow  the 
fashionable  feminine  folk  of  the  town 
will  be  out  shrouded  in  veils  and 
sportive  in  spring  bonnets. 

To  the  birds  who  are  frantically 
settling  in  our  tree-tops,  taking  ad- 
vantage of  squatters*  privileges  and 
eagerly  grabbing  the  best  sites  for 
building  operations,  spring  means  the 
start  of  housekeeping,  and  matri- 
monial ventures  with  all  their  attend- 
ant cares  and  pleasures. 

To  the  woodsman,  the  season  sug- 
gests  getting   ready  for  the  "dump" 


fVOMAN'S  SPHERE 


)67 


and  the  beginning  of  the  tedious  and 
always  peiilous  "drive"  down  the 
water- courses  of  our  northland. 

To  the  sailor — and  who  loves  spring 
like  the  sailor? — it  means  new  life  in 
his  lungs,  the  thrill  of  wind-sounds  in 
the  rigging  and  the  joy  of  flapping 
sails! 

But  the  women — is  it  a  shame  to 
confess  it? — she  is  torn  between  the 
conflicting  emotions  of  a  keen  eager- 
ness to  turn  things  topsy-turvy,  by 
the  process  known  to  teniiied  man 
as  a  "spring  house- cleaning,"  and  a 
torturing  indecision  as  to  the  exact  size 
of  dot  in  her  spring  veil,  or  the  pre- 
cise number  and  variety  of  colours 
advisable  to  have  on  her  Easter  bonnet. 

Every  fashioner  of  hats  has  but  the 
one  story  to  tell  you  this  spring, 
namely,  that  there  is  positively  no  limit 
to  the  number  of  different  and  even 
discordant  colours  to  be  crowded  upon 
one  hat;  and  confidentially  advises,  in 
a  stage-whisper,  that  if  you  want  your 
new  creation  to  look  exactly  like  a 
Paris  pattern^  you  must  have  upon  it, 
in  a  "jumble,"  every  colour  of  the 
rainbow ! 

Now,  at  this  pitfall,  the  wise  Cana- 
dian madame,  or  demoiselle,  will  use 
her  brains,  and  avoid  a  headlong 
tumble  by  a  little  discretion.  She 
may  follow  the  Paris  hat — at  a  distance 
— perhaps  in  form,  or  suflliciently  so  in 
colour,  as  not  to  be  entirely  "out  of 
it,"  but  she  will  select  her  colours  with 
grave  care,  and,  even  should  she 
choose  seven,  she  will  see  to  it  that 
they  all  harmonise,  and  also  that  they 
will  become  her  particular  style  of 
beauty. 

**  These  dazzlinj^  eyes  before  whose  shrouded 

might 
Thou'st  seen  immortal  man  kneel  down  and 

quake." 

And  concerning  the  veil,  which  may 
lend  to  a  woman  an  added  power — 
a  "shrouded  might."  This  adorn- 
ment may  be  termed  an  extra,  as 
really  a  non-essential  in  woman's 
wardrobe,  but  if  properly  worn,  is  a 
very  pretty  adjunct  to  the  feminine 
attire,  bearing  in  its  folds  a  quaint 
suggestion    of    aloofness.       Like  the 


high  hedges  about  old  English  gar- 
dens, it  shuts  out  a  too  bold  gaze  of 
the  intruder,  but,  like  the  same  hedges, 
it  should  be  properly  trimmed. 

The  veil  must  be  judiciously  chosen 
as  to  weave,  colour  and  length,  but, 
more  important  still,  it  must  be  artis- 
tically draped.  Even  as  the  knotting 
of  a  tie,  or  the  arrangement  of  a  gir- 
dle, the  draping  of  a  veil  requires 
something  more  than  can  be  taught  in 
any  school  of  fashion.  Perchance  it 
is  a  bit  of  feminine  jugglery,  mastered 
only  by  the  few,  or  a  deft  twist  of  the 
wrist  that  a  rare  woman  is  born  with, 
but  whatever  it  is,  that  "something" 
is  very  necessary  to  one  who  would 
make  herself  presentable  in  a  veil. 
Otherwise  she  might  better,  as  Tom 
Moore  suggests  (with  due  apologies 
to  Tom  for  changing  "his"  to  "her"): 

'*  From  her  angel  brow 

Cast  the  veil  that  hides  its  splendours  now. 

And  gladden'd  Earth  shall  through  her  wide 

expanse 
Bask  in  the  glories  of  this  countenance!" 

Watch  the  "veiled  beauties"  sailing 
along  King  Street  any  morning  during 
a  shopping  tour,  and  see  if  you  do  not 
agree  with  me,  that  many  of  the  flying 
colours  there  seen  are  reminiscent  of 
nothing  so  much  as  a  washing  hung 
out  to  dry,  or  the  tattered  burgee  on  a 
defeated  battle-ship. 

A  parting  word  about  hats.  One 
new  shape  shown  me  was  called  the 
"Kuroki" — a  sort  of  cross  between  the 
"Lulu  Glaser"  and  a  Japanese  sun- 
turban.  The  brim  and  inner  rim 
drooped  in  parallel  walls,  making  sort 
of  a  trench,  not  to  fire  bullets  from, 
but  to  "shoot  glances"  over  at  the 
"enemy"  from  beneath  banks  of  the 
loveliest  flowers  possible  to  artificial 
skill. 

Annie  Merrill. 


A  MATRIMONIAL  BUREAU 

THE  demand  for  wealthy  American 
wives  on  the  part  of  impecunious 
members  of  the  European  nobility  has 
led  to  the  establishment  on  the  Con- 
tinent of  a  sort  of  bureau  of  informa- 
tion  regarding  the  number  and  posi- 


568 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


tion  of  marriageable  American  heir- 
esses. The  agency  is  said  to  have 
branches  in  several  of  the  Continental 
cities,  and  to  be  extensively  patronised 
by  the  hordes  of  princes,  barons  and 
counts  found  in  Russia,  Germany,  and 
neighbouring  countries.  By  its  repre- 
sentatives in  the  United  States  the 
agency  is  supplied  with  the  most  min- 
ute details  concerning  Brother  Jona- 
than's wealthy  and  eligible  daughters. 
These  descriptions  relate  not  only  to 
the  fortunes  and  personal  appearance 
of  the  ladies,  but  even  include  their 
character,  temper,  habits,  height, 
weight,  size  of  gloves  and  shoes  worn, 
and  so  forth.  It  is,  in  fact,  a  sort  of 
secret  and  exclusive  matrimonial 
agency,  patronised  entirely  by  the 
male  sex,  for  it  need  hardly  be  said 
that  the  information  obtained  about 
the  ladies  is  mainly  gathered  by  sur- 
reptitious methods.  The  particulars, 
in  fact,  are  gleaned  chiefly  by  women 
who  are  glad  to  earn  fees  by  acting  as 
spies  on  their  wealthier  sisters.  Large 
profits  are  earned  by  the  agency  on 
each  marriage  brought  about  by  its 
aid.  — Selected. 


EUPHEMISM 

The  humorists  and  the  satirists  are 
continually  passing  remarks  upon  the 
civilised  barbarianism  of  modern  times. 
Whether  they  prefer  uncivilised  bar- 
barianism, or  whether  they  think  that 
civilisation  should  be  entirely  free  from 
any  barbaric  qualities  is  not  clear. 
At  any  rate,  the  veneer  of  Euphemism 
which  is  over  the  life  of  society  is  made 
into  a  target  for  their  steel  pointed 
quips  and  jokes.  Here  is  a  recent 
example  from  Punch: 

THE    EUPHEMISTIC    AGE 

Time  was  we  Britons  all  displayed 

A  frank  and  brutal  candour; 
We  used  to  call  a  spade  a  spade, 

But  now  we're  growing'  blander. 
If  Truth  be  nude,  we  think  it  rude 

To  turn  our  glances  on  her: 
We  dare  not  look  till  we  can  hook 

Some  decent  clothes  upon  her. 


When  nightly,  as  we  sit  at  meat 

Around  the  groaning  table. 
We  over-drink  and  over-eat 

As  long  as  we  are  able, 
'Tis  not  from  greed  we  love  to  feed. 

And  swinish  inclination — 
Alackaday  !  we  are  a  prey 

To  "social  obligation." 

When  ladies  seek  masseuses'  skill 

To  rub  away  Time's  traces. 
And  sleep  (as  I  am  told  they  will) 

With  masks  upon  their  faces ; 
When  they  repose  with  peg  on  nose 

To  mould  it  into  beauty — 
Good  friend,  refrain  !     Don't  call  them  vain  ! 

They  are  the  "slaves  of  duty." 

When  City  men  conspire  with  Earls 

To  tempt  untutored  boobies 
By  talk  of  valleys  filled  with  pearls 

And  diamonds  and  rubies; 
When  they  invite  the  widow's  mite 

To  set  their  ventures  floating — 
It's  swindling?     No!  by  no  means  so! 

It's  "company-promoting." 

When  public  gentlemen  address 

Small  cheques  to  institutions. 
And  little  pars  to  half  the  Press 

About  their  contributions — 
You  hint  tiiey're  glad  to  get  an  "ad." 

And  easy  popularity? 
That's  not  their  game  !     They  have  one  aim — 

"  Disinterested  charity." 

"  Many  divorces  are  caused  by  a 
very  common  mistake." 

"  What  is  that?" 

"  Many  a  man  in  love  only  with  a 
dimple  or  a  curl  makes  the  mistake  of 
marrying  the  whole  girl." 

"  The  professions  are  full,  shall  I 
give  my  boy  a  college  education?  "  says 
the  parent.  No  profession,  no  calling, 
no  branch  of  life  was  ever  filled.  Good 
men  and  women  need  not  wait  on  un- 
performed tasks — they  never  did  wait. 
Will  you  give  your  boy  a  college 
education?  Yes,  give  it  to  him  if  you 
think  he  will  understand  its  usefulness, 
if  his  attitude  will  be  such  as  to 
enable  him  to  take  advantage  of  it. 


THE  UNIVERSITY  OF  TORONTO 

HE  peculiar  political  condi- 
tions of  the  past  decade 
in  Ontario  political  life 
have  had  a  questionable 
influence  upon  the  Univer- 
sity of  Toronto,  the  educational  crea- 
ture of  the  provincial  government. 
Controlled  by  the  government,  depend- 
ent upon  it  for  annual  grants,  for  new 
buildings  and  other  extensions  of 
facilities,  and  for  improvements  in  its 
administrative  regulations,  it  must  be 
influenced  by  the  conditions  of  the 
times.  For  ten  years,  succeeding 
provincial  administrations  have  been  on 
the  defensive  because  all  the  legisla- 
tive majorities  have  been  small.  Each 
premier,  instead  of  framing  advanced 
policies,  was  simply  strengthening  his 
entrenchments.  Each  administration 
was  peculiarly  susceptible  to  influence 
and  pressure. 

The  University  of  Toronto  had  great 
needs,  and  to  satisfy  them  it  was 
forced  to  look  to  its  parental  head — 
the  government.  That  body  could  be 
reached  most  easily  by  influence  and 
pressure.  It  was  thus  that  corporations 
were  securing  privileges,  that  com- 
panies were  obtaining  legislature- made 
powers,  that  individuals  were  securing 
favours.  What  more  natural  than 
that  the  University  should  adopt  means 
so  potent  and  so  well  recognised ! 

To  create  pressure  and  exhibit  in- 
fluence the  alumni  were  organised  into 
an  association,  of  which  two  of  the 
university  president's  closest  friends 
were  chairman  and  secretary.  The 
alumni  of  each  county  throughout 
Ontario  were  organised  into  county 
associations.  A  great  machinery  was 
created  which  would  have  political  in- 
fluence,  or   the    semblance   of  it.     A 


new  science  building  was  required, 
and  demanded.  The  government's 
hesitation  was  speedily  removed  when 
this  newly  created  machinery  was  set 
in  motion  by  the  president  and  his 
friends.  A  huge  deputation  visited 
the  parliament  buildings  at  Toronto 
and  demanded  this  new  structure  and 
also  payment  to  cover  annual  deficits. 
The  government  yielded. 

A  new  Convocation  Hall  was  de- 
cided upon.  The  machinery  of  the 
alumni  association  was  put  in  motion 
and  $50,000  was  subscribed  by  the 
graduates  and  their  friends.     Then  a 


THE    LATE    E.    F.    CLARKE,    M.P. 

Member  for  Centre  Toronto,  and  Ex-Mayor  of  the  dty, 
who  died  recently 

Photograph  by  Goock 


569-* 


S70 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


march  was  made  upon  the  government. 
The  premier  made  a  show  of  resist- 
ance. Further  pressure  was  brought 
upon  him  through  two  ot  his  colleagues 
who  were  graduates  of  the  University 
and  who  were  beguiled  with  high 
honorary  degrees.  In  the  end  the 
premier  yielded,  and  another  grant 
was  made.  These  are  two  conspicuous 
examples  of  the  game  that  was  played. 

No  doubt  all  these  grants  were  re- 
quired. Perhaps  the  new  buildings 
were  absolutely  necessary.  No  doubt 
the  monies  so  granted  will  be  spent  to 
the  advantage  of  the  Province.  Yet, 
the  method  employed  has  had  an  ill  ef- 
fect on  the  institution.  The  president 
and  his  advisers  have  been  looking  so 
much  to  these  material  gains,  that  the 
mental  gains  have  been  overlooked. 
There  has  been  more  desire  to  increase 
the  buildings  and  the  revenue  than  to 
increase  the  efficiency  of  the  staff,  to 
raise  the  standard  of  instruction  and 
to  develop  the  intellectual  life  of  the 
institution.  The  spirit  of  petty  politics 
has  permeated  the  university  atmo- 
sphere, until  the  higher  life  of  the  in- 
stitution has  been  threatened.  On 
paper,  the  institution  looks  strong;  in 
spirit,  it  is  manifestly  weak. 

In  the  February  issue  of  the  Univer- 
sity of  Toronto  Monthly,  a  writer  dis- 
sects the  inner  university,  the  atmo- 
sphere of  a  university,  and  shows  its 
influence.  He  preaches  a  sermon  which 
it  would  be  well  for  this  particular 
institution  to  heed.  A  faculty,  broken 
up  into  factions,  composed  of  units 
each  of  which  is  striving  to  glorify  it- 
self when  it  should  be  inspired  rather 
with  a  zeal  for  truth  and  a  passion  for 
life — such  a  faculty  cannot  impress  a 
body  of  students.  President  Loudon 
and  most  of  the  professors  are  strong 
men,  but  they  have  been  setting  their 
minds  to  the  building  up  of  the  outer 
university  rather  than  the  inner 
university.  A  change  of  methods  and 
a  change  of  ideals cannotcome  toosoon. 


VESTED  RIGHTS 

THE  doctrine  of  vested   interests  is 
one  which  might  reasonably  be 
the    subject   of   an    historical   or    eco- 


nomic commission.  It  is  obtaining  a 
great  foothold  in  this  country  because 
of  church  influence,  corporate  influ- 
ences and  judge-made  law.  It  is  be- 
ing strained  to  defend  much  that  is 
good,  more  that  is  indiff"erent  and  a 
little  that  is  entirely  wrong. 

For  example,  a  man  is  appointed 
a  professor  in  a  provincial  university. 
He  at  once  secures  a  vested  right  in 
his  position,  it  is  claimed,  and  for 
the  remainder  of  life  is  entitled  to 
$3,000  or  so  per  annum.  He  may 
cease  to  be  progressive,  he  may  ac- 
quire habits  which  are  detrimental  to 
a  proper  intellectual  influence,  yet  he 
is  retained.  When  those  senior  to  him 
in  appointment  pass  away  and  he  be- 
comes senior  professor,  he  is  said  to  be 
entitled  to  a  reversion  of  the  presidency. 
He  may  have  few  qualities  fitting  him 
for  that  position,  and  some  which  un- 
fit him  ;  yet  he  and  his  friends  rely  on 
the  doctrine  of  vested  rights.  He  be- 
comes president  and  does  badly,  he 
should  be  retired  and  a  successor 
appointed,  but  the  doctrine  of  vested 
rights  comes  in  to  save  him.  The 
institution  may  go  to  intellectual  wreck 
and  educational  ruin,  but  the  man  may 
not  be  disturbed. 

The  state  of  affairs  is  much  the 
same  when  a  legislature  or  parliament 
grants  a  franchise  to  a  corporation. 
That  organisation  may  pay  nothing 
for  the  franchise  beyond  what  it  handed 
to  the  campaign  fund  to  prove  its  bona 
fides;  yet  the  moment  the  grant  is 
made,  the  vested  interest  arises.  If 
the  grant  is  to  be  rescinded  a  week 
later,  the  vested  interest  is  valued  at 
$100,000,  or  perhaps  a  round  million. 
This  is  the  doctrine  propounded  by 
telephone  companies,  gas  companies, 
electric  lighting  companies,  street  and 
other  railway  companies.  Once  these 
corporations  commence  to  do  business 
in  a  certain  community,  henceforth 
that  community  is  their  property, 
something  from  which  they,  their 
heirs  and  assigns  forever,  are  entitled 
to  an  annual  revenue.  The  greatest 
of  all  annuities  is  the  vested  interest. 

The  Roman  Catholic  church  has  al- 
ways been  a  great  believer  in  vested 
rights.     When  the  British  conquered 


PEOPLE  AND  AFFAIRS 


571 


the     French     in     this 
country,    the    only 
stipulation  of  the  sur- 
render   was    that    the 
vested      interests      of 
that  church  should  be 
properly  safeguarded. 
From  point  to    point, 
through    all    constitu- 
tional   and     civil 
changes,     the    church 
has  steadily  fought  to 
maintain  that  interest. 
The     English     church 
did    the    same    in    the 
early   days    of    Upper 
Canada,  but     was    de- 
feated   in    spite  of  all 
the  eloquence  and  or- 
ganising ability  of 
John    Strachan.     The 
Roman     Catholic 
church  has  been  more 
successful.     Especially 
in  Quebec  has  its  vest- 
ed interest  grown  and 
swelled    to    enormous 
proportions.      A   hun- 
dred    million     dollars 
would  be  a  small  esti- 
mate of  the  value    of 
its   Quebec    franchise. 
It    attempted     unsuc- 
cessfully   to     exercise 
the   same  franchise  in 
Manitoba,    but   partially    failed  before 
the    Privy    Council,      Its  vested  inter- 
est claim  would  have    been    acknowl- 
edged by  that  body,  if  there  had  been 
sufficient  evidence  to  support  it.     The 
doctrine    itself  found    no    disapproval 
there.      Now,  the  sphere  of  action  has 
passed    on    to    the    Territories   where 
two  new  provinces  are  to  be  erected. 
Vested  interests  are  again  to  the  front, 
because  separate  schools  have  existed 
there  since  1875.    Separate  schools  are 
a  part  of  the    Roman    Catholic    fran- 
chise, and  the  Church  zealously  guards 
its  right  to  maintain  them.    The  coun- 
try is  mightily  excited    over  the  con- 
troversy. 

It  is  an  open  question,  whether  this 
doctrine  of  vested  rights  is  not  being 
pressed  too  far.      Shortly  there  will  be 


THE   HON.   CLIFFORD  SIFTON 

Who  has  resigned  from  the  Laurier  cabmct,  in  which  he  was  Minister  of 

Interior,  as  a  protest  against  some  proposed  features  of  the  Bills 

{creating  two  new  I*rovincea  in  the  West 


a  movement  to  tax  the  church  prop- 
erty of  all  denominations.  Is  the  cry 
of  vested  interests  to  arise  there?  Is 
every  reform  in  educational,  profes- 
sional and  corporation  life,  to  be  met 
with  the  answer:  *'  You  must  not  dis- 
turb vested  interests"? 


^ 


CANADA  AND  IMPERIAL  DEFENCE 

ABOUT  thirty  years  ago  the  Impe- 
rial Government  was  content  to 
pay  a  portion  of  the  expense  required 
to  defend  this  part  of  the  Imperial 
domain;  to-day  it  is  demanding  that 
Canada  not  only  provide  for  her  own 
defence,  but  that  she  contribute  to  the 
defence  of  the  Empire  as  a  whole. 
From  a  purely  business  standpoint,  the 


57- 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


demand  is  not  based  in  reason.  The 
growth  of  the  naval  expenditure  of 
Great  Britain  has  not  been  due  to  any 
development  on  this  continent;  the 
reasons  are  entirely  European.  The 
growth  of  the  French,  German  and 
Russian  fleets  has  always  been  given 
as  a  reason  for  increasing  Brit- 
ain's fleet — not  the  growth  of  Ca- 
nada. If  the  British  taxpayer  is  pay- 
ing out  more  money  than  he  can 
afford,  he  might  lay  away  his  cheque- 
book and  his  ambitions  for  a  time, 
until  his  resources  are  replenished. 
Punch's  cartoon,  representing  John 
Bull  as  bearing  a  great  burden,  and 
Jack  Canuck  following  without  offer- 
ing any  assistance,  was  neither  justifi- 
able nor  in  good  taste. 

It  is  but  reasonable  to  assume  that, 
as  Canada  grows  in  material  strength 
and  financial  resource,  she  will  add  to 
her  own  internal  and  external  defence. 
:She  has  been  steadily  doing  that.  Her 
.annual  expenditure  for  militia  and  de- 
fence has  grown  from  $667,001  in  1881 


to  an  average  of  over  two  million  dol- 
lars during  the  past  four  years.  This 
amount  will  grow,  because  the  country 
feels  that  this  is  necessary  in  its  own 
self-interest.  The  annual  expenditure 
will  be  practically  doubled  by  the  re- 
cent decision  to  assume  the  responsi- 
bility for  garrisoning  Halifax  and  Es- 
quimalt,  which  up  to  the  present  have 
been  Imperial  stations.  In  the  near 
future,  the  government  will  probably 
begin  to  build  a  defence  fleet  of  some 
kind,  and  to  train  naval  men  as  it  now 
trains  military  forces.  Canada  is  not 
persevering  in  this  policy  because  of 
British  demands.  The  policy  was 
originated  and  has  been  maintained 
because  it  was  felt  necessary  in  the 
interests  of  this  country.  Future  de- 
velopments of  that  policy  will  be  based 
upon  the  same  reasoning. 

If  this  view  is  correct,  there  is  no 
need  for  Imperial  rejoicing  of  the 
kind  that  has  appeared  recently. 
Canada's  national  pride  is  alone  the 
mainspring  of  her  actions. 

John  A.   Cooper 


THE   PETITION 


BY    VIRNA    SHEARD 


SWEET  April!  from  out  of  the  hidden  place 
Where  you  keep  your  green  and  gold. 
We  pray  thee  to  bring  us  a  gift  of  grace, 
When  the  little  leaves  unfold. 

Oh!  make  us  glad  with  the  things  that  are  young; 

Give  our  hearts  the  quickened  thrills 
That  used  to  answer  each  robin  that  sung 

In  the  days  of  daflFodils. 

For  what  is  the  worth  of  all  that  we  gain. 

If  we  lose  the  old  delight. 
That  came  in  the  time  of  Sun  and  of  rain. 

When  the  whole  round  world  seemed  right? 

It  was  then  we  gave,  as  we  went  along. 

The  faith  that  to-day  we  keep; 
And  those  April  days  were  for  mirth  and  song, 

While  the  nights  were  made  for  sleep. 

Yet,  though  we  follow  with  steps  that  are  slow 

The  feet  that  dance  and  that  run; 
We  would  still  be  friends  with  the  winds  that  blow. 

And  companions  to  the  Sun! 


THE  LOUVRK* 

CANADA  is  so  young  that  she  has 
neither  art  galleries  nor  art  pal- 
aces worthy  of  special  mention.  Her 
lovers  of  art  still  turn  for  pleasure  and 
inspiration  to  the  galleries  of  Europe 
— the  Vatican,  the  Pitti  Palace,  the 
Louvre,  the  Luxembourg,  the  National 
Gallery  and  the  others. 

The  latest  popular  book  on  the 
Louvre  is  that  written  by  Mary  Knight 
Potter,  who  has  also  written  of  the 
Vatican.  Even  to  one  who  knows 
the  Louvre  only  by  secondary  testi- 
mony, this  book  or  any  other  of  its 
kind  must  come  as  a  messenger  of 
pleasure — if  the  art-sense  of  the  indi- 
vidual has  not  been  dulled  entirely  by 
the  brutalising  tendencies  of  the  mod- 
ern money-getting.  Even  the  student 
of  history,  who  cares  little  for  art  de- 
velopment, will  find  here  food  for  reflec- 
tion and  study.  The  history  of  the 
Louvre  presents  in  vivid  colours  both 
the  aspirations  and  the  passions  of  the 
French  race. 

With  the  exception  of  certain  found- 
ations, no  part  of  this  gray  rectangle  of 
buildings,  between  the  Rue  de  Rivoli 
and  the  Seine  in  the  very  heart  of 
Paris,  is  older  than  the  time  of  Fran- 
cois L  It  is  said  to  have  been  first  a 
merehunting-lodge,  and  to  havederived 
its  name  from  that  of  the  wolf — Lupus 
lupera.  Others  claim  that  Philippe- 
Auguste,  pleased  with  his  creation, 
called  it  the  work — "  Coeuvre,  quasi 
chef-d'oeuvre.^'  But  Philippe  built  a 
fort  or  fortified  palace  as  suited  the 
thirteenth  century.  The  work  of  en- 
larging it  and  making  it  a  gallery  was 
left  for  much  later  years.  Colbert  did 
his  share,   but  most  of  the  work  was 

*The  Art  of  the  Louvre,  by  Mary  Knigfht 
Potter.  Illustrated,  418  pp,  $2.00.  Boston: 
L.  C.  Page  &  Co. 


done  in  the  present  century  under 
Napoleon  I,  Louis  XVIII,  Charles  X 
and  Napoleon  III.  To-day  it  is  the 
finest  of  the  museums  of  the  world. 

Francois  I  gathered  the  first  paint- 
ings for  the  Louvre.  He  learned, 
through  the  wars  with  Italy,  the  value 
of  Italian  art,  and  invited  Leonardo  da 
Vinci  and  Andrea  del  Sarto  to  his 
court.  Raphael  painted  his  Holy 
Family  and  St.  Michael  for  this  mon- 
arch, although  the  artist  did  not  go 
personally  to  Paris.  Under  Louis  XIV, 
as  would  naturally  be  expected,  the 
number  of  paintings  grew  from  two 
hundred  to  more  than  two  thousand. 
Colbert  spared  neither  time,  pains  nor 
money  in  adding  to  it.  The  art  treas- 
ures of  Charles  I  of  England  passed, 
through  a  banker  in  Cologne  and  his 
misfortunes,  into  the  hands  of  Le 
Grande  Monarque.  Mazarin  made  a 
great  collection  for  himself  and,  when 
he  died,  Colbert  purchased  546  original 
paintings,  92  copies,  130  statues  and 
196  busts  from  this  collection  and 
transferred  them  to  the  Louvre. 

When  the  Revolution  came,  the  peo- 
ple called  the  Louvre  the  Museum  de 
la  Republique,  and  opened  it  to  the 
public  in  November,  1793.  The  Re- 
public, with  curious  highmindedness 
and  generosity,  subscribed  one  hun- 
dred thousand  livres  annually  for  the 
purpose  of  buying  pictures  exposed  at 
private  sale  in  foreign  countries.  From 
guillotining  monarchs  to  making  art 
collections  is  such  a  short  step. 

Napoleon,  with  sardonic  contradic- 
tion, gathered  as  spoils  of  war  the  art 
treasures  of  Europe,  and  sent  them  to 
Paris.  From  Italy,  Holland,  Austria 
and  Spain  came  huge  caravans  of 
treasures.  France  claimed  that  these 
were  not  pillage,  but  honourable  fruits 
of  Napoleon's  victories;  nevertheless. 


574 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


many    of    them    were    returned    when 
peace  and  order  were  restored. 

All  this  information  and  much  more 
is  contained  in  the  first  two  chapters 
of  this  beautifully  printed  volume. 
The  other  eighteen  chapters  are  de- 
voted to  descriptions  of  the  art  treas- 
ures of  the  various  rooms.  Some  of 
the  famous  pictures  described  and 
illustrated  may  be  mentioned: 

Mona'Lisa,  Leonardo  da  Vinci. 
Immaculate  Conception,  Murillo. 
Lorenzo  Tornabuoni,  Botticcelli. 
Visitation,  Ghirlandajo. 
Adbration  of  the  Mayi,  Luini. 
Madonna  of  Victory,  Mante^na. 
Charity,  Andrea  del  Sarto. 
Holy  Family,  Lotto. 
Philip  IV,  Velasquez. 
Charles  I,  Van  Dyck. 
Bohemian  Girl,  Franz  Hals. 
Christ  at  Emmaus,  Rembrandt. 
Entombment,  Titian. 
Jupiter  and  Antiope,  Corregg^io. 
Marriage  Feast  at  Cana,  Veronese. 
A  Morning,  Corot. 
The  Gleaners,  Millet. 

Neither  the  pastels,  the  water-col- 
ours, nor  the  mural  decorations  are 
considered  in  the  volume.  Neverthe- 
less the  book  is  most  satisfactory, 
both  in  contents  and  its  mechanical 
excellence. 


SHERLOCK  HOLMES* 

BETWEEN  the  ages  of  ten  and 
seventy,  a  male  person  is  inter- 
ested in  detective  stories.  One  of  our 
leading  journalists  tells  that  when,  as  a 
boy  on  the  farm  he  became  possessed  of 
his  first  dollar,  he  walked  ten  miles  to 
the  nearest  town,  purchased  ten  ten- 
cent  novels  and  walked  home  again 
with  his  treasures.  From  this  and  other 
instances,  the  thinking  man  will  not 
condemn  the  average  boy  who  is  deeply 
interested  in  detective  yarns.  This  in- 
terest is  dangerous  only  when  it  takes 
possession  of  the  boy  and  absorbs  his 
whole  being.  So  long  as  he  can  in- 
dulge in  it  in  moderation,  it  is  not 
necessarily  harmful.  Much  nonsense 
is  talked  about  the  wickedness  of  allow- 

♦The  Return  of  Sherlock  Holmes,  by  A. 
Conan  Doyle.  Cloth,  illustrated,  381  pp. 
Toronto :  Morang  &  Co. 


ing  youths  to  read  this  class  of  litera- 
ture. If  parents  feel  that  it  is  becom- 
ing harmful,  let  them  not  forbid  it  but 
rather  turn  the  boy's  interest  into 
better  channels.  Kill  the  one  interest 
by  substituting  another. 

It  is  not  the  interest  of  youths  which 
has  made  Sherlock  Holmes  more  prof- 
itable to  Sir  Arthur  Conan  Doyle  than 
a  gold  mine.  It  is  the  interest  of  men, 
business  and  professional  men.  If 
these  men  find  a  legitimate  pleasure 
in  the  adventures  and  acuteness  of 
Sherlock  Holmes,  why  should  they 
condemn  a  similar  interest  on  the  part 
of  a  younger  generation  in  Old  Sleuth 
of  New  York? 

Sherlock  Holmes  is  a  type  of  shrewd 
man  whose  wits  are  keener  than  the 
average,  a  type  of  man  whose  courage 
is  above  the  ordinary,  a  type  of  man 
with  whom  duty  is  always  first.  As 
such  he  is  to  be  admired.  His  career 
has  something  which  is  admirable, 
even  though  it  might  not  be  chosen 
by  the  preacher  as  a  model.  Methods 
of  teaching  and  methods  of  giving 
pleasure  must  always  be  various.  No 
legitimate  form  of  either  is  to  be  de- 
spised. Conan  Doyle  has  made  him  a 
hero;  and  the  common  people  have  re- 
ceived him  gladly.  Let  us,  therefore, 
hope  that  the  standard  of  duty  and 
courage  set  by  him  will  bear  its  proper 
fruit;  for  this  seems  better  than  lament- 
ing to  no  purpose  that  the  higher  lit- 
erary appreciation  of  good  books  is 
confined  to  the  very  few. 


TRAMPS 

THE  economic  writer  vies  with  the 
novelist  in  giving  us  information 
about  tramps,  their  origin  and  their 
mental  attitude.  Charles  D.  Stewart 
has  written  a  book  called  "The  Fugi- 
tive Blacksmith,"*  cleverly  and  hu- 
morously recounting  the  exploits  of  a 
mechanic  who  became  a  tramp  because 
he  was  unjustly  charged  with  the  com- 
mission of  a  crime.     The  author  is  a 

*The  Fugitive  Blacksmith,  by  Charles  D. 
Stewart.  Cloth,  321  pp.  Toronto:  The  Copp, 
Clark  Co. 


ABOUT  NEW  BOOKS 


575 


Chicagoan  who,  though  but  thirty- 
seven  years  of  age,  has  been  tramp, 
blacksmith,  photo-engraver,  journalist, 
and  labour  leader.  Apparently  he 
himself  is  one  of  those  unfortunate 
men  to  whom  change  is  necessary, 
and  with  whom  it  is  inevitable.  This 
mode  of  life  has  a  fascination  of  its 
own,  and  it  is  said  to  be  followed  in 
the  United  States  by  100,000  men. 

Mr.  Stewart's  story  is  interesting. 
Some  of  the  chapters  might  have  been 
eliminated — especially  the  first.  There 
is  no  attempt  at  psychological  analysis 
of  the  characters,  and  there  is  an  en- 
tire absence  of  philosophy.  It  is  a 
story  in  which  the  events  explain  them- 
selves. Finerty,  the  Irishman  in  charge 
of  the  sand-house  at  a  railway  divis- 
ional point,  is  the  person  who  enter- 
tains the  tramps  and  listens  to  their 
tales.  Finerty  is  as  humorous  as  one 
could  wish,  and  when  he  re-tells  any 
part  of  the  story  it  gains  much  in  bril- 
liancy. The  blacksmith  is  not  humor- 
ous, but  he  is  ingenious,  a  shrewd 
observer,  and  a  square  partner  amid 
all  his  misfortunes. 


THEODORE  ROBERTS 

OF  all  the  younger  Canadian  writ- 
ers, none  gives  more  promise  of 
excellence  than  Theodore  Roberts. 
Like  his  sister  and  his  three  brothers, 
all  older  than  he,  he  early  gave  evi- 
dence of  literary  and  artistic  taste. 
He  is  not  yet  thirty  years  of  age,  but 
his  experiences  have  been  varied. 
Most  of  his  early  years  were  spent  in 
his  native  city,  Fredericton,  but  in 
1897  he  joined  the  staff  of  the  New 
York  Independent.  The  Spanish-Am- 
erican War  occurring  soon  afterwards 
he  went  to  Tampa,  Florida,  as  special 
correspondent,  crossed  to  Cuba  with 
Shafter's  army,  and  was  soon  stricken 
with  fever.  In  May,  1899,  he  went  to 
Newfoundland,  where  he  published  and 
edited  The  Newfoundland  Magazine. 
Such  a  venture  was  not  likely  to  be 
successful  in  so  small  a  colony,  and 
he  was  soon  forced  to  abandon  it.  In 
the   meantime,  his  name  had  become 


THEODORE   ROBERTS 
Antbor  of  "  Hemmins,  The  Adventurer." 

familiar  to  the  readers  of  New  York 
publications,  both  his  poetry  and  his 
prose  finding  ready  acceptance.  In 
1899,  a  volume  of  poems  from  his  pen 
and  those  of  his  brother  and  sister 
appeared  with  the  title  "Northland 
Lyrics,"  Professor  Roberts,  the  eldest 
brother,  writing  a  Foreword,  and  Bliss 
Carman,  a  cousin,  an  Epilogue.  In 
January  of  last  year,  his  first  novel 
"Hemming,The  Adventurer,"  appeared 
in  Boston.  Recently  a  Canadian  edi- 
tion has  been  brought  out.  Mr.  Rob- 
erts was  married  last  year,  and  has 
spent  the  fall  and  winter  in  the  Bar- 
badoes. 

'•Hemming,The  Adventurer"*  is  the 
story  of  a  British  officer  who  lost  his 
money  by  the  treachery  of  a  fellow- 
officer,  and  was  compelled  to  resign 
his  commission.  Worst  of  all,  he 
found  his  fiancee  estranged  by  false 
tales.     He  engages  as  correspondent 

•Hemming:,  the  Adventurer,  by  Theodore 
Roberts.  Cloth,  illustrated,  328  pp.  Toron- 
to: The  Copp,  Clark  Co. 


576 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


for  a  New  York  press  ag-ency,  and 
visits  Turkey  and  Greece,  but  is  called 
to  New  York  and  sent  on  to  South 
America.  His  adventures  are  numer- 
ous. The  friendship  with  O'Rourke, 
a  free  lance  like  himself,  is  the  strong- 
est feature  of  the  yarn.  Both  have 
been  crossed  in  love,  both  love  adven- 
ture for  adventure's  sake,  both  value 
the  freedom  which  is  the  greatest  re- 
ward of  the  travelling  journalist.  The 
story  reminds  one  of  the  work  of 
Richard  Harding  Davis,  and  of  such 
books  as  "The  Prisoner  of  Zenda." 
It  is  not  ponderous  in  theme  or  in  an- 
alytical quality;  it  is  simply  a  lively 
tale.  Nevertheless  there  is  in  it  a 
shrewdness  of  observation,  a  clever- 
ness in  handling  of  plot  and  character 
which  place  Mr.  Roberts  above  many 
of  the  popular  story  writers  of  the 
day. 

A  WOMAN  PREACHER 

WE  are  all  preachers — that  is,  all  of 
us  who  are  of  any  use  in  the 
world.  Some  of  us  preach  by  prac- 
tice and  some  by  words,  some  merely 
by  the  lines  on  our  faces.  There  are 
two  English  women-novelists  who 
preaCh,  Marie  Corelli  and  Mrs.  Hum- 
phry Ward.  The  former  does  it 
clumsily;  the  latter  delicately.  The 
former  sometimes  goes  so  far  that  one 
is  impressed  with  a  certain  feeling  of 
posing,  of  staginess,  of  insincerity; 
the  latter  is  usually  moderate.  Robert 
Elsmere,  David  Grieve,  Marcella  and 
all  the  rest  were  sermons,  gentle, 
pleasant,  yet  rugged  and  forceful. 

"The  Marriage  of  William  Ashe"* 
is  a  novel  of  political  life,  with  here 
and  there  shrewd  comments,  vigorous 
protests,  clear  commendations.  Some 
Canadian  public  men  are  condemned, 
for  example,  by  this  quotation: 

'*  Any  one  who  knew  him  well  might 
have  observed  a  curious  contrast  be- 
tween his  private  laxity  in  these  mat- 
ters  and  the   strictness   of  his  public 

*The  Marriage  of  William  Ashe,  by  Mrs. 
Humphry  Ward.  Cloth,  illustrated,  563  pp. 
Toronto:  William  Brigg-s. 


practice.  He  was  scruple  and  delicacy 
itself  in  all  financial  matters  that 
touched  his  public  life,  directorships, 
investments  and  the  like,  no  less  than 
in  all  that  concerned  interest  and  pat- 
ronage. He  would  have  been  a  bold 
man  who  had  dared  to  propose  to 
William  Ashe  any  expedient  what- 
ever by  which  his  public  place  might 
serve  private  gain.  His  proud  and 
fastidious  integrity,  indeed,  was  one 
of  the  sources  of  his  growing 
power." 

Mrs.  Ward  is  more  than  a  preacher, 
she  is  a  creator  of  literature.  She  is 
not  so  tedious  as  Henry  James  or 
Watts- Dunton,  but  she  is  in  their 
elegant  class;  to  their  dignity  of  dic- 
tion and  style  she  adds  brightness  of 
dialogue,  sprightliness  in  the  choice  of 
character,  lightness  in  delineation. 
One  cannot  but  regret  that  hundreds 
will  read  her  new  novel  and  miss  these 
subtle  qualities  because  of  the  interest 
in  the  story  itself. 

Kitty,  the  wife  of  William  Ashe,  is 
a  wonderful  creation,  something  of  the 
type  of  Lady  Rose's  daughter.  She  is 
summed  up  in  the  phrase  *'  physically 
small  and  intellectually  fearless,"  but 
that  requires  much  elucidation  in  inci- 
dent and  picture.  Her  infatuation  for 
Cliffe,  "a  kind  of  modern  Byron,"  is 
in  keeping  with  her  other  strange  fan- 
cies. Her  strong,  irrational  will  leads 
her  into  grave  errors.  Her  hatred  of 
conventionalities  cause  her  uncounted 
troubles.  The  secret  of  her  peculiari- 
ties is  hinted  at  early  in  the  story,  but 
is  not  fully  revealed  until  the  denoue- 
ment. 


NOTES 

*'  Beautiful  Joe's  Paradise,"  by  Mar- 
shall Saunders,  the  Nova  Scotian 
writer,  has  been  issued  in  England  by 
Jarrold. 

The  Canadian  public  would  do  welt 
to  pass  "The  Sign  of  Triumph,"  by 
(Mrs.)  Sheppard  Stevens.  It  is  a  tale 
of  the  famous  Children's  Crusades  of 
the  thirteenth  century,  but  is  sadly 
marred  by  some  filthy  scenes  which  no 


A  PROBLEM  AND  ITS  SOLUTION 


577 


right-minded  person  would  be  likely  to 
construct.  All  sins,  mistakes  and 
errors  are  not  hideous,  but  the  sins 
painted  in  this  book  are  decidedly  so. 
We  feel  certain  that  the  Canadian 
publishers  were  misinformed  concern- 
ing" its  character,  or  it  had  not  ap- 
peared here. 

"  French  Songs  of  Old  Canada,"  by 
Graham  Robertson,  has  been  issued  in 
London  (13s.  6d.),  by  Heinemann. 
The  songs  are  given  with  the  music 
and  an  English  translation. 

Norman  Duncan  is  issuing  a  sketch 
through  the  Revell  Publishing  Com- 
pany, entitled  "  Dr.  Grenfell's  Parish: 
The  Deep  Sea  Fishermen,"  which  will 
give  an  authentic  presentation  of  the 
great  work  which  the  doctor  is  doing 
on  the  coast,  where  Dr.  Grenfell's 
parish  covers  a  district  two  thousand 
miles  in  length. 

William  Briggs  has  just  issued  a 
volume  of  some  importance  from  the 
pen  of  a  Canadian,  namely,  *'The 
Supremacy  of  the  Bible,"  by  J.  Mer- 
cier  McMullen,  the  Canadian  historian. 
Mr.  McMullen  is  now  in  his  85th  year, 
and  the  book  is  an  excellent  example 
of  prolonged  intellectual  energy.  The 
book  deals  with  the  relations  of  re- 
ligion to  speculative  science,  remote, 
ancient  history  and  the  higher  criti- 
cism; and,  as  the  author  puts   it   in  a 


sub-title,  is  "a  brief  appeal  to  facts, 
inductive  reason  and  common-sense." 
It  is  a  volume  of  nearly  500  pages. 

G.  B.  Burgin's  new  story,  "The 
Marble  City,"  has  a  Canadian  setting, 
although  the  author  is  not  a  native. 
He  is  expected  to  again  visit  Canada 
this  year,  and  will  probably  spend  his 
holidays  in  Northern  Ontario. 

Harper  and  Brothers  are  shortly  to 
publish  a  group  of  Northwest  stories 
by  Herman  Whitaker — a  new  star  in 
the  milky  way. 

E.  J.  Payne  has  written  a  volume 
entitled  •' Colonies  and  Colonial  Con- 
federation," which  is  published  by 
Macmillans.  One  would  like  to  learn 
what  experience  Mr.  Payne  has  had  in 
colonial  matters. 

Stewart  Edward  White's  books  have 
grown  quite  popular  in  this  country 
and  apparently  are  doing  well  in  Great 
Britain.  "The  Mountains,"  his  latest 
book,  has  met  with  a  good  reception 
on  both  sides.  It  has  less  geographical 
interest  to  Canadians  than  his  previous 
books  because  his  mountains  are  the 
Western  Sierras  in  the  United  States. 
Still,  the  book  interprets  the  message 
of  the  mountains,  paints  the  glory  of 
that  kind  of  natural  scenery  and  indi- 
cates the  prize  which  the  seeker  may 
find  there. 


A   PROBLEM  AND   ITS   SOLUTION 


THE  problem    published   last   month 
attracted  a  great  deal  of  attention. 
Here  it  is  with  the  best  solutions : 

In  the  following  sum  in  longf  division  all  the 
figures  have  become  obliterated  except  four. 
Complete  the  sum  by  supplying  the  missing 
figures,  and  explain  in  the  simplest  form  how 
thev  are  obtained. 


X2x)  xxxxxx  (x6x 
X  X  2 


X  X  X  x 
X  X  X  X 


X7X 

XXX 


578 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


The  clearest  and  most  complete  solu- 
tion is  furnished  by  Mr.  H.  W.  Brown 
of  Berlin,  Ont.: 

For  convenience  sake  allow  me  to  substi- 
tute the  following  notation: 

a2b)  cdefgh  (i6k 
1  m  2 

n  o  p  g 
r  s  t  u 

V  7  h 
X  y  z 


Obviously  v  =  7  sjnce  the  remainder  ■■  o  ; 

7  being  odd  must  arise  from  k  times  2  + 
some  odd  number  carried  from  k  times  b ; 

k  must  be  less  than  6  since  xy  z  is  less  than 
r  s  t  u,  that  is  k  =  o,  i,  2,  3,  4  or  5; 

Now  o  and  i  are  both  impossible  values 
because  no  carrying  number  would  be  pro- 
duced in  either  case  from  k  times  b; 

Moreover  2,  4  and  5  are  equally  impossible 
since  the  carrying  numbers  would  have  to  be 
3,  9  and  7  respectively  to  produce  a  7  from 
the  2  in  the  divisor; 

Hence  >&"*3; 

3  times  2  =  6,  therefore  3  times  b  must  pro- 
duce some  number  between  9  and  20  so  that 
there  may  be  i  to  carry  to  the  6  to  make  7; 

Therefore  b  must  be  4,  5,  or  6; 

5  is  impossible  owing  to  the  2  in  /  m  2,  so 
that  b's  value  must  be  4  or  6; 

Let  us  now  consider  the  value  of  * ; 

If  6  =  4  «  must  be  3  to  produce  a  2  ; 

If  6  =  6  i  must  be  2  or  7  to  produce  a  2  ; 

7  is  impossible  since  I  tn  2'\s  manifestly  less 
than  r  s  t  u; 

2  is  impossible  since  I  tn  2  cannot  be  less 
than  X  y  z  and  leave  n  o  p  a.  remainder  less 
than  a  2  b: 

Hence  »  — 3  and  6  =  4  ; 

Our  system  of  notation  is  the  decimal 
system,  therefore  c  rf  cannot  be  less  than  10, 
and  /,  which  is  3  times  a,  must  be  as  near 
10  as  possible; 

The  nearest  multiple  of  3  is  9,  therefore  3 
times  a  =  9,  and  0  =  3, 

Now,  by  substituting  the  values  we  have 
obtained,  we  get 

Divisor  =  324, 

Quotient  =  363, 

Dividend  =  324  x  363=  1 17612; 

From  these  data  all  the  remaining  un- 
knowns may  be  found  in  the  ordinary  way. 

Hoping  that  this  solution  may  meet  with 
your  approval,  and  trusting  that  you  will  con- 
tinue this  feature  of  the  magazine  from  month 
to  month,   I  remain, 

Yours  sincerely, 

Berlin,  Ont.  Harry  W.  Brown. 


Somewhat  similar  accurate  and  clear 
solutions  have  been  received  from  J. 
M.  Hood,  of  Stayner,  and  James 
Quigley,  of  Regina. 

Then  there  was  a  second  class  of 
answers  which  might  be  labelled  the 
"  rough  and  ready  "  class.  Of  these 
solutions,  the  following  may  be  taken 
as  examples.  Oswald  C.  Withrow, 
M.D.,  Fort  William: 

I  first  found  out  what  combinations  of  fig- 
ures would  give  me  2  as  end  figure  of  a  pro- 
duct, and  rejected  all  but  3x4.  I  put  the  4 
as  last  figure  in  the  divisor.  Then  I  knew 
that  as  the  first  figure  of  the  xx2  must  be  a 
high  figure,  possibly  a  9,  I  placed  3  as  the 
first  figure  of  the  divisor,  making  it  324,  and 
36X  as  quotient.  Then  as  the  middle  figure 
of  XXX  would  probably  be  a  7  so  that  it  would 
come  out  even,  I  thought  3  must  be  the  last 
figure  of  the  quotient,  making  363,  and  by 
multiplying  I  obtained  117612. 

I  was  about  20  minutes  obtaining  the  an- 
swer. 

Abram  E.  Jess,  Kentville,  N.S., 
writes: 

I  first  put  7  under  the  fig.  7  in  problem;  this 
must  be  right  as  there  was  no  remainder. 
This  7  was  to  be  obtained  by  multiplying  the 
2  in  divisor  by  last  figure  of  quotient,  which 
must  be  3,  and  last  figure  of  divisor  must  be 
large  enough  to  have  i  to  carry  when  multi- 
plied by  the  3. 

The  figure  2x  must  be  obtained  by  multi- 
plying the  last  figure  in  divisor  by  first  figure 
in  quotient.  After  first  trying  2  and  6  I  found 
the  correct  figures  to  be  3  and  4,  and  the  4 
must  necessarily  go  in  the  divisor,  so  that 
when  multiplied  by  the  last  3  in  quotient  I 
would  have  the   i  to  carry. 

I  now  had  363  for  the  quotient  and  only 
lacked  the  first  figure  in  divisor.  I  supplied 
this  with  the  smallest  figure  that,  when  multi- 
plying the  divisor  and  quotient  tog  ether,  would 
bring  six  figures  in  the  dividend. 

This  I  found  to  be  correct. 

Correct  solutions,  some  even  better 
than  these  two,  were  received  from  Wm. 
M.  Marshall,  Goderich;Mathemat  I  Cus; 
Jean,  Moose  Jaw;  J.  J.  Traill,  Toronto; 
F.  P.  Macklem,  Toronto  (excellent); 
F.  D.,  Cornwall  (good),  and  several 
others. 

A  still  more  difficult  problem  will  be 
given  next  month. 


omei2[s. 


t 


TRIOLET 

It's  funny,  you  know, 
And  as  queer  as  can  be — 
It  puzzles  me  so — 
It's  funny,  you  know, 
Where  the  mothers'  laps  go 
When  they  get  up,  you  see; 
It's  funny,  you  know, 
And  as  queer  as  can  be. 

Margaret  Clarke  Russell. 


OUR  FIRST  MOUNTED  PARADE 

WE,  the  2nd  Battalion,  Canadian 
Mounted  Rifles,  landed  in  Africa 
on,  I  believe,  the  last  day  of  February, 
1900.  After  giving  our  horses  a  few 
days  to  get  the  stiffness  out  of  their 
legs,  the  colonel  decided  to  have  a 
mounted  parade.  Our  officers  had  but 
a  nodding  acquaintance  with  cavalry 
drill,  or  indeed,  any  kind  of  drill  where 
a  considerable  body  of  men  were  in- 
volved; the  horses  were  Western 
bronchos,  frisky  and  wild  as  March 
hares,  and  the  men  earnestly  intent  on 
getting  all  the  fun  possible  out  of  the 
campaign.  Our  lieutenant  stood  con- 
siderably over  six  feet.  I  do  not  know 
what  his  calling  was  in  times  of  peace, 
but  he  was  intensely  military  now.  He 
talked  wisely  of  arms,  of  camps,  of 
the  movements  of  the  enemy  and  of 
the  disposition  of  brigades.  He 
breathed  fiercely  and  glared  at  the 
graceless  rascals  of  the  5th  troop,  C 
squadron,  preparatory  to  shouting  in 
stentorian  tones  *'  Shine,"  which  was 
his  idea  of  the  military  pronunciation 
of  the  word  "Attention." 

Like  all  tall  men  he  showed  a  pecu- 
liar preference  for  small  horses,  and 
rode  a  13.3  gray  pony,  which  made  up 
in  girth  what  it  lacked  in  height.  We 
fell  in  for  the  parade  in  our  lines,  dis- 
mounted and  led  our  horses  out  back 
of  the  camp,  where  there  was  suffi- 
cient room  to  manoeuvre  the  regiment. 


On  our  right  rear  lay  a  battery  of  gar- 
rison artillery,  back  of  them  a  regi- 
ment of  infantry;  in  fact,  on  all  sides 
of  this  open  space  were  the  camps  of 
different  outfits  of  soldiers.  We  were 
numbered  off  and  then  told  off  by  sec- 
tions, and  then  it  was  that  our  gallant 
lieutenant,  glaring  with  deadly  inten- 
sity, said,  "Centre  man.  Prove!" 
Private  John  Russell  lifted  his  hand 
over  his  head  as  a  schoolboy  does  to 
attract  the  teacher's  attention.  "  You 
are  centre  man,  Russell,"  said  Lieuten- 
ant   ;  "you  will  ride  two  horses* 

length  behind  me,  no  more  and  no 
less;  you  will  follow  me  wherever  I  go. 
Do  you  understand,  sir;  wherever  I 
go?"  "  Yis,  sor,"  said  Russell,  with 
a  grim  determination  to  do  his  duty. 
"And  the  rest  of  you  men,"  said  the 
lieutenant,  "you  will  dress  on  Rus- 
sell; that  is,  you  will  keep  level  with 
him  wherever  he  goes."  The  order  to 
mount  was  given,  and  somehow  we 
got  on  our  fiery  cayuses  and  got  into 
some  sort  of  line.  But  the  dust,  the 
shouting  and  general  commotion  was 
too  much  for  the  nerves  of  the  lieuten- 
ant's pony  for,  taking  the  bit  in  his 
teeth,  he  bolted  straight  for  a  regi- 
ment of  infantry  who  were  peacefully 
going  through  the  manual  of  arms. 
With  a  delightful  whoop  Jack  Russell 
jabbed  his  spurs  into  his  horse  and 
with  a  shout  of  "  Come  on,  bhoys," 
took  after  our  fleeing  officer,  and  the 
rest  of  us,  mindful  of  our  orders  to 
"  Dress  on  Russell,"  soon  got  into 
line  and  kept  magnificent  dressing. 
Then  the  onlookers  beheld  a  thrilling 
spectacle.  It  had  been  said  that  in 
modern  war  there  would  be  no  cavalry 
charges,  but  here  was  the  real  thing. 
Forty  shouting,  raving  maniacs, 
mounted  on  forty  half-broken  bron- 
chos, and  led  by  a  grim-looking  war- 
rior whose  saddle   had  by  this    time 


58o 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


THE    MOTOR-BATH 


Nurse — "Oh,  Baby,  look  at  the  Diver." — Punch 


slipped  forward  on  the  horse's  withers, 
and  whose  legs  stuck  out  in  front  of 
the  pony's  head  on  either  side  like  a 
pair  of  buggy  shafts.  Like  a  whirl- 
wind we  bore  down  upon  the  unsus- 
pecting infantry.  I  believe  that  their 
colonel  was  a  brave  man  and  that  the 
regiment  had  a  good  reputation,  but 
they  fled  incontinently.  We  swept 
through  their  camp  and  out  the  other 
side.  Here  the  garrison  artillery  were 
firing  with  4.7  guns,  and  had  their 
ears  stuffed  with  wadding  to  save  the 
ear  drums.  They  were  shooting  out 
to  sea  and  were  intent  on  their  busi- 
ness. They  never  heard  us  until  we 
were  about  on  top  of  them,  and  how 
we  managed  to  get  through  them 
without  killing  a  dozen  or  so,  none  of 


us  really  know,  but  we 
did  it,  and  I  observed 
that  thereafter  they 
never  went  to  drill  with 
the  big  guns  without  first 
posting  a  flying  sentry 
between  our  lines  and 
theirs.  By  tugging  on 
one  rein  the  pony  was 
induced  to  describe  a 
partial  circle  and  finally 
came  under  control,  and 
we  came  back  to  the 
regiment  with  our  centre 
man  two  horses'  length 
behind  our  officer  and 
the  rest  of  the  troop 
dressing  like  veterans  on 
Jack  Russell,  who  was 
glowing  with  the  righte- 
ous satisfaction  of  one 
who  had  tfone  his  whole 
duty. 

Some  months  later  I 
saw  in  an  English  illus- 
trated paper  a  sketch  of 
what  purported  to  be  a 
charge  by  my  old  regi- 
ment. We  were  shown 
with  fixed  bayonets  on 
horseback.  We  carried 
our  rifles  in  one  hand 
and  our  revolvers  in  the 
other,  and  behind  us,  as 
far  as  the  eye  could 
reach,  was  a  trail  of  dead 
and  dying  Boers,  and  I  have  often 
wondered  just  to  what  extent  the  artist 
of  the  sketch  was  inspired  by  the  in- 
cident above  related. 

W.  A.    Grteshach. 
■ 
"Young  Dr.   Swift  calls  everyday 
on  the  little  widow." 

"Dear  me!    Is  she  as  ill  as  all  that?' 
' '  No,  but  she  is  as  pretty  as  all  that. "" 

■ 
Mrs.    Forehundred :      "What    was 
that  awful  yelping  in  the  nursery  just 
now?" 

Maid:    "The  nurse  just  slapped  one 
of  your  children." 

"Oh!     I  was  afraid  somebody  had 
kicked  Fido." 


dD^lDD 


AUTOMOBILING  ON  RAILS 

AUTOMOBILING  on  country  roads 
is  sufficiently  exciting  for  most 
people,  but  one  man  conceived  the 
idea  of  travelling  across  the  continent 
on  steel  rails.  This  man,  Charles  F. 
Glidden  of  Boston,  applied  to  the 
Canadian  Pacific  Railway  for  permis- 
sion to  travel  over  their  line  from 
Montreal  to  Vancouver — a  distance  of 
three  thousand  miles.  He  received  it 
on  the  condition  that  he  should  carry 
with  him  an  engineer  and  a  conductor 
and  that  his  machine  should  run  on 
schedule  time.  The  run  was  made  in 
September  last  and  resulted  success- 
fully.    This  photograph  was  taken  at 


Medicine  Hat,  and  is  now  published 
through  the  courtesy  of  the  E.  W. 
Gillett  Co.,  Toronto. 


ELECTRIC    LOCOMOTIVES 

'T^HE  electrification  of  suburban  lines 
-*■  is  rapidly  being  carried  into  effect 
by  one  or  two  of  the  largest  railway 
systems  of  England,  and  by  several  of 
the  United  States.  In  the  former 
country  the  North-Eastern,  at  New- 
castle, and  the  Lancashire  and  York- 
shire, at  Manchester,  have  now  local 
electric  lines  in  operation.  Other  com- 
panies are  carefully  observing  the 
results    of   the    experiment,    with    the 


ACROSS   CANADA   ON   AN   AUTOMOBILE,    VIA   THE   CANADIAN    PACIFIC    RAILWAY 


582 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


THE    ELECTRIC    LOCOMOTIVE    BUILT    FOR    THE    NEW    VORK    CENTRAL 

This  style  of  locomotive  will  be  used  to  draw  the  traias  over  the  first  thirty-five  miles  of  their  tracka 
runnins  out  of  the  Grand  Central  Deix>t,  New  York 


intention,  no  doubt,  of  equipping  their 
suburban  service  with  electric  power 
if  the  advantages  sought  by  the  experi- 
menting roads  are  obtained.  The 
underground  railway  in  London,  which 
has  for  so  many  years  been  run  as  a 
steam  road,  is  now  undergoing  the 
process  of  electrification.  Overhead 
railways  of  England,  such  as  that  of 
Liverpool,  are  electrified.  But  perhaps 
the  best  evidence  of  evolutions  going 
on  from  steam  to  electricity  are  to  be 
seen  in  New  York  and  Chicago.  The 
New  York  Central  is  electrifying  all  its 
suburban  New  York  lines  for  a  dis- 
tance of  thirty-five  miles.  From  five 
to  seven  hundred  trains  enter  the 
Grand  Central  station  in  a  day,  and  to 
handle  them  300  miles  of  single  track 
will  be  electrified.  This  enterprise  is 
costing  many  millions  of  dollars,  but 
the  company  hopes  to  be  more  than 
compensated  for  their  enormous  out- 
lay by  the  increased  traffic  they  hope 
to  receive  consequent  of  the  benefits 
given  the  public  in  more  rapid  travel, 
smokeless  tunnels  and  safety  from  fire. 
Chicago  is  likewise  witnessing  a  change 
in  the  operation  of  its  suburban  trains. 
The  larger  railways  entering  that  city 


evidently  believe  electricity  will  not 
only  facilitate  the  movement  of  the 
thousands  who  travel  on  their  lines  to 
suburban  points,  but  will  render  travel 
less  dangerous.  In  Canada,  electricity 
on  railroads  has  confined  itself  to  street 
car  lines  and  to  electric  roads  running 
to  country  points.  This,  perhaps,  is 
due  to  the  fact  that  norie  of  our  cities 
are  entered  by  tunnels  nor  have  over- 
head railways.  Experiments  are  being 
made  in  Michigan  by  the  Grand  Trunk, 
however,  and  one  of  the  officials  said 
recently  that  electricity  would  no  doubt 
be  used  when  it  proved  of  economic 
value  for  suburban  traffic.  An  official 
of  the  C.P.  R.  said  the  experiments  of 
other  companies  are  being  watched 
but  not  followed  out  as  yet. — Montreal 
Gazette. 


**I  think,"  said  the  prison  visitor, 
"it  would  be  helpful  to  you  if  you 
would  take  some  good  motto  and  try 
to  live  up  to  it." 

"Yes,"  said  the  convict.  "Now, 
I'd  like  to  select,  for  instance,  'We 
are  here  to-day  and  gone  to-mor- 
row.' " 


RECIPROCITY 

T  ORD  Minto  in  a  recent  speech  ex- 
■'-'  pressed  the  fear  that  the  United 
States  might  offer  reciprocity  to  Ca- 
nada, and,  through  trade  influence, 
create  a  sentiment  that  would  win  it 
away  from  Great  Britain.  There  was 
a  time  when,  had  the  U.S.  Congress 
and  Government  been  directed  by 
statesmen,  what  Lord  Minto  alludes 
to  might  have  been  brought  about. 
The  fashion  of  the  U.S.  people  in 
electing  as  their  representatires  a  mass 
of  narrow  gauge,  illy  informed  politic- 
ians, instead  of  giving  Canada  wider 
reciprocity,  gave  it  the  repeal  of  the 
only  treaty  negotiated  between  the  two 
countries,  the  Fenian  raids,  President 
Cleveland's  threats  of  commercial  ex- 
clusion and  the  McKinley  and  Dingley 
tariffs.  Incidentally  also,  it  gave  Ca- 
nada a  national  backbone,  that  makes 
Lord  Minto's  fears  needless. — Montreal 
Gaeette. 


IMPORTED    READINGS 

THE  question  of  getting  more  Brit- 
ish reading  matter  into  the 
hands  of  the  Canadian  people  is  attract- 
ing much  attention  both  in  Great  Brit- 
ain and  this  country.  His  Excellency, 
the  Governor-General,  has  interested 
himself  in  the  movement  and  is  lending 
it  all  his  assistance.  A  petition  from 
leading  Canadians  was  presented  to 
the  British  Pjostmaster-General  a  few 
days  ago,  and  at  the  same  time  a  dep- 
utation of  British  M.P. 's  waited  upon 
him.  Lord  Stanley,  like  his  predeces- 
sors, refused  to  budge  from  the  pres- 
ent practice,  but  that  does  not  neces- 
sarily mean  that  there  is  no  hope.  Sir 
Gilbert  Parker,  who  is  directing  the 
movement    in    Great     Britain,    states 


that  the  official  answer  cannot  be  ac- 
cepted. 

The  Canadian  trade  and  navigation 
returns  of  1904,  p.  316,  give  the  fol- 
lowing figures: 

Imports  of  newspapers,  and  quarterly, 
monthly  and  semi-monthly  mag^azines, ,  and 
weekly  literary  papers: 

Great  Britain..  >36,i68 

Hong  Kone:  % 

Austialia.  .  5 

France i  ,532 

United  States 148,519 


$186,126 


These  figures  do  not  include  the 
quantities  that  come  in  by  mail,  but 
only  such  as  are  imported  by  news  com- 
panies and  newsdealers.  It  will  be  seen 
that  the  importations  from  Great  Brit- 
ain are  only  18  per  cent,  of  the  whole, 
while  the  United  States  supplies  80 
per  cent. 

AN  OLD  PROTECTION  RECOM- 
MENDATION 

IN  1854  a  Committee  of  the  Legisla- 
tive Assembly  of  Canada  was  ap- 
pointed to  inquire  into  the  commercial 
intercourse  between  Canada  and  Great 
Britain,  the  British  North  American 
Colonies,  the  West  India  possessions,- 
the  United  States  and  other  foreign 
countries.  On  the  26th  of  May,  1855, 
this  committee,  of  which  William  Ham- 
ilton Merritt  was  chairman,  reported 
in  favor  of  imposing  *'  the  same  rate  of 
duties  on  the  manufactures  of  the 
United  States  as  are  imposed  by  that 
Government  on  the  manufactures  of 
Canada."  At  that  time  there  was  in 
force  a  treaty  of  reciprocity  in  natural 
products  between  Canada  and  the 
United  States,  but  manufactured  goods 
were    not    included.       The    Canadian 


583 


584 


THE  CANADIAN  MAGAZINE 


Customs  tax  on  manufactures  was  \2\ 
per  cent,  and  the  United  States  tariff 
averaged  more  than  twice  as  high. 
The  advice  of  the  Commission  was 
not  taken,  but  in  1858  the  Canadian 
Government  did  adopt  a  protective 
tariff  on  manufactures  which,  while  not 
so  high  as  that  of  the  United  States, 
was  remarkably  high  as  compared  with 
the  tariff  that  preceded  it.  The  duties 
were  increased  from  12^  per  cent,  to 
20  per  cent,  on  a  long  list  of  manufac- 
tures, including  manufactures  of  silk, 
wool,  wood,  iron,  brass,  copper,  silver, 
glass,  leathers  of  all  kinds  and  India 
rubber,  while  boots,  shoes,  harness 
and  ready- made  clothing  got  protection 
to  the  extent  of  25  per  cent.  This 
protective  tariff  caused  the  establish- 
ment of  many  industries  in  Canada, 
but  unfortunately  at  the  time  of  Con- 
federation the  tariff  was  lowered  to 
please  the  Maritime  Provinces,  which 
had  not  yet  adopted  a  protective  policy. 
The  fact  that  Ontario  and  Quebec  were 
so  much  in  advance  of  the  Maritime 
Provinces  in  manufacturing  enterprises 
at  the  time  of  Confederation  was 
largely  due  to  the  fact  that  the  Prov- 
inces of  Upper  and  Lower  Canada  had 
enjoyed  a  considerable  measure  of 
protection  for  a  number  of  years  before 
Confederation  while  the  Maritime 
Provinces  were  labouring  under  the 
disadvantage  of  free  trade. — Industrial 
Canada. 


PROSPECTS  BY  THE  ATLANTIC 

THE  Maritime  Merchant  states  that 
the  prospects  for  1905  in  Eastern 
Canada  are  encouraging.      It  says: 

"We  think  we  can  see  this  year  a 
considerable  alteration  in  the  attitude 
of  the  people  toward  the  year  which  is 
ahead  of  us.  This  time  a  year  ago  the 
note  was  one  of  pessimism.  The  out- 
look all  over  the  provinces  was  none 
too  cheerful.  In  Sydney  and  in  the 
mining  districts  of  Cape  Breton  the 
complexion  of  things  was  decidedly 
blue.  Even  then  were  heard  around 
the  steel-works  complaints  and  mur- 
murs, which  some  months  afterwards 


ripened  into  action  with  disastrous 
results.  The  strike  which  followed 
made  a  big  hole  in  the  resources  of  the 
workmen,  and  in  the  profits  of  the 
company  and  of  the  merchants. 

"Our  own  province  and  more  partic- 
ularly New  Brunswick  had  to  reckon 
with  what  appeared  then  likely  to  be, 
and  what  afterwards  proved  to  be,  a 
lean  year  in  the  lumber  business. 
Failures  and  business  embarrassments 
served  to  accentuate  this  note.  With 
the  beginning  of  the  present  year  the 
note  is  one  of  optimism.  From  both 
provinces,  and  even  from  the  very 
quarters  where  the  outlook  was 
darkest  a  year  ago,  there  now  come 
expressions  of  confidence.  We  wel- 
come this  change.  We  believe  it  is  a 
great  mistake  not  to  be  optimistic. 
The  world  is  the  better  for  its  Mark 
Tapleys,  who  "come  out  strong"  un- 
der all  circumstances,  even  when  the 
tide  seems  to  be  running  against  them. 
The  optimists  are  not  without  reasons 
for  tne  faith  that  is  in  them.  In  the 
labour  world  conditions  are  much  more 
stable.  The  miners  of  Cape  Breton 
and  their  employers  have  come  to- 
gether with  a  sweet  reasonableness, 
between  master  and  man,  which  is  the 
more  charming  because  of  its  rarity. 
For  three  years,  at  least,  labour 
troubles  will  not  deprive  either  labour 
or  capital  of  their  own.  The  outlook 
at  the  Sydney  iron-works  is  promising. 
Both  output  and  demand  are  increas- 
ing, and  there  is  nothing  in  sight  at 
present  to  interfere  with  the  profitable 
operations  of  these  works. 

"The  fisheries,  which,  after  all  is 
said  and  done,  are  the  back-bone  of 
these  provinces,  are  in  a  healthful 
condition.  Although  the  catch  was 
not  large,  the  high  prices  prevailing 
have  counteracted  this,  and  the  fisher- 
men begin  the  new  year  with  full 
pouches.  Fishing  seers  and  those 
learned  in  the  traditions  of  that  an- 
cient occupation,  predict  that  the  voy- 
ages of  the  coming  year  will  be  good 
ones.  Although  the  lumber  cut  will 
not  be  large,  prices  and  markets  are 
improving." 


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UNIVERSITY  OF 
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■  ''METR^'ptiliTjSN :  V;:il  »- 

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